There was a burst of laughter among his hearers, as they imagined how Father Moreno must have looked in such elegant attire.
“And afterward, what happened then?” asked Carmen, greatly interested.
“I landed in Gibraltar—what a fury I was in to see the English flag floating there! From that place I took ship again for Malaga. Nothing of much account happened except that I met two English Catholic priests, and conversed with them in Latin—because I knew no English—about the great strides Catholicism was making in England. From Malaga I went to Granada. To tell the truth, I was very anxious to see that beautiful city, so celebrated all over the world, and to visit the Alhambra and the Generalife. As soon as I went out in the street, what did I do but meet a friend of mine, a judge whom I had known in the Canary Isles! He looked at me in amazement, doubting the evidence of his senses. I addressed him, and he finally recognized me. I explained matters to him, he invited me to take coffee, and we agreed to meet the following day to go to see the Alhambra in company with some friends of his at the hotel. I begged him not to tell them that I was a friar. He promised that he would not, and was better than his word, as you shall see. In fact, when we met the next day he brought with him two army officers, two medical students, and a priest; and as soon as he saw me, he began to shout, feigning great surprise, ‘Hello, Aben Jusuf, you here! By Jove, who could think of meeting you at such a place and at such an hour!’ I replied, comprehending his object, ‘By Allah, when I left Morocco I did not expect to enjoy the pleasure of seeing you.’ His companions, already excited, whispered to my friend: ‘Why, is this gentleman really a Moor?’ My friend, in order not to tell a barefaced falsehood, replied: ‘You might know that by his name. I called him Aben Jusuf.’ ‘And is he a friend of yours?’ ‘Yes, I met him in the Canary Isles, when I went to take sea-baths.’ ‘I say, just invite him to come with us to visit the Alhambra, to see what he’ll say.’ ‘Agreed.’ I accepted the invitation, of course, seeing I had already done so the night before. My friend, drawing near me, held out his hand, and said: ‘Aben Jusuf, I would ask you to come with us to visit the Alhambra, but I am afraid of arousing your unpleasant feelings.’ I replied that it must be, indeed, unpleasant for a son of the desert to visit the monuments erected by his forefathers, which they no longer possess, but that, in order not to incommode him and those gentlemen, I would willingly accompany them.”
“Did they keep on thinking that you were a Moor?” inquired Señor Aldao.
“Of course. And such a Moor; a Moor of the Moors! I played my part with all seriousness. I overheard one of them say to the others, ‘He looks like all of his race.’ At every door, every window, and every court, I would stop as though sad and depressed, uttering broken phrases, like groans of pain; in short, just as I imagined a Moor might express his feelings there. Once I stroked my beard——”
“Oh, Father Moreno, how I would have liked to see you with a beard!” cried Carmen.
“Naranjas! It is true, you have not seen me!” exclaimed the friar, breaking off the thread of his discourse. “Wait, my girl, I think I must have it here.” Reaching up his sleeve, he brought out an old pocket-book, and took from it a card-photograph, which in a moment went the rounds of the crowded gathering in the second story of the tree. The women uttered exclamations of admiration and Candidiña cried mischievously, “How handsome you were, Father Moreno!”
I could not help thinking to myself that he really was handsome. His long hair and heavy beard brought out more forcibly the friar’s manly appearance.
“Well, I stroked that big beard that you see there, and exclaimed seriously, ‘If Spain goes on in the road she has been traveling for a few years past, Allah will again lead Arabian horsemen to these plains, which they still recall in their homes in the desert.’ Then turning to those present, without looking at my friend, who was desperately striving not to laugh, I resumed: ‘Pardon, gentlemen, a son of the desert; these opinions have escaped me without my being able to prevent it.’ You should have seen these men, charmed with my outburst. ‘No, no, it is all very well. Hurrah for the agreeable Moors!’ they cried, with other sayings of the same nature. But my trouble began when they commenced to question me about what they supposed was my religion, and the customs of my alleged country. One inquired whether it was true that the laws of Mohammed authorized having many wives. Then another, a cavalry officer, burst out, ‘By Jove, that is the best thing in the laws of Mohammed.’”
This part of the story caused a great sensation. My uncle frowned. Señor Aldao compressed his waist; Serafín hiccoughed; Carmen laughed heartily, and I joined in.