So saying, the leader seated himself at the table, which was littered with newspapers, letters, and books, and taking a sheet of stamped paper ran his hand over the white page, filling it with the rapid, almost unintelligible caligraphy of a man overwhelmed with business. He then folded the paper, slipped it into an envelope, and, without closing it, handed it to his friend.
When Miranda rose to take his leave he approached Colmenar, and speaking in a low voice, almost in a whisper, he murmured:
“Are you quite sure—quite certain about the—the two mill——”
“It is so likely I should be mistaken! All you have to do is to make inquiries in Leon. In conscience, you owe me a commission,” and the politician laughed and tapped Miranda on the cheek as if he were a child.
Under this exalted patronage Miranda presented himself in the peaceful abode of the Colmenarist feudatory, and was received as befitted a guest who came thus recommended. Naturally he resolved not to make himself known at once as a suitor for the hand of Lucía. Besides being a want of delicacy this would also be a want of tact, and then Miranda proposed to himself, before taking any decided step, to study carefully the ground on which he was treading. He found that what the leader had told him with regard to the money was the truth, and even less than the truth. He saw a house, old-fashioned in style, rude and plebeian in its usages, but in which honesty presided, and a solid and secure capital, daily augmented through the judicious management of Señor Joaquin and his simple and economical mode of living. It is true that the worthy Leonese seemed to Miranda a tiresome companion, vulgar in his manners, weak in character, and mediocre in intellect,—stupid even, at times; but he was obliged to put up with him, and he even adapted himself so skillfully to the ideas of the old man that the latter was soon unable to sip his coffee or to read El Progreso Nacional, the organ of Colmenar, without the sauce of the witty commentaries that Miranda made on every article, every paragraph, every item of news it contained. Miranda knew by heart the obverse side, the inner aspect of politics, and he explained amusingly the sly allusions, the artful reservations, the covert satire, that abound in every important newspaper, and that are a constant enigma for the simple-minded provincial subscriber. So that, since he had become intimate with Miranda, Señor Joaquin enjoyed the profound pleasure of being initiated into the mysteries, and he looked with disdain upon his Leonese co-religionists, who had not yet been admitted into the sanctuary of secret politics. In addition to these pleasures which he owed to Miranda’s friendship, the good old man swelled with pride—we already know how little of a philosopher he was—when he was seen walking side by side with a gentleman of so distinguished an appearance, the intimate friend of the governor, and the familiar companion of the highest people of the capital.
Lucía regarded the visit of the courteous and affable Miranda without displeasure, and noted with childish curiosity the neatness of his person, his well-polished shoes, his snowy linen, his scarf-pin, the curious trinkets attached to his watch-chain, for every woman—consciously or unconsciously—takes pleasure in these external adornments. Besides, Miranda possessed the art—and practiced it—of what we may call winning affection by diverting; he brought the young girl every day some new trifle, some novelty,—now a chromo, now a photograph, now rare flowers, now illustrated periodicals, now a novel by Fernan Caballero, or Alarcon,—and the pretty gifts that flowed through the doors of the antiquated house, messages as it were, from modern civilization, were so many voices praising the generous giver. The latter succeeded in bringing his conversation to the level of Lucía’s understanding, and showed himself very well informed regarding feminine, or rather infantile matters, and the young girl would sometimes even consult him with regard to the style in which she should wear her hair and the make of her gowns, and Miranda would very seriously make her raise or lower, by two centimeters, the waist of her gown or her chignon. Incidents like these served to vary a little the monotony of the life of the Leonese maiden, lending a charm to her intercourse with her undeclared lover.
At first it was matter of no little surprise in Leon that the fashionable Miranda should choose for his companion Señor Joaquin, a man on whose square shoulders the peasant’s jacket seemed unalterably riveted and fastened; but gossip was not long in arriving at a rational explanation of the phenomenon, and Lucía’s companions soon began to tease her unmercifully about Señor de Miranda’s passion, his attentions, his presents, and his devotion. She listened to them with a tranquil smile, never blushing, never losing a moment’s sleep on account of it all; nor did her heart beat a second faster when she heard Miranda’s ring at the bell, followed by the noise made by his resplendent boots as he entered the room. As no tender speech of Miranda’s came to confirm the words of her companions, Lucía continued tranquil and careless as ever. But Miranda, resolved now to bring his enterprise to a termination, and thinking that he had spent time enough in paving the way, one day, after sipping his coffee and reading El Progreso Nacional in the company of Señor Joaquin, asked the latter in plain terms for his daughter’s hand.
The Leonese was struck dumb with amazement and knew not what to say or do. His dream—Lucía’s entrance, so ardently desired, into the circles of polite society—was about to be realized. But we must be just to Señor Joaquin. He did not fail to perceive clearly, in this supreme moment, certain unfavorable points in the proposed marriage. He saw the difference in the ages of the prospective bride and bridegroom; he knew nothing of Miranda’s pecuniary position, while his daughter’s magnificent dowry was a matter of certainty; in short, he had a vague intuition of the base self-interest on which the demand was founded. The suitor showed himself a skillful strategist, forestalling suspicion, in a manner, and anticipating the thoughts of the Leonese.
“I myself,” he said, “have no fortune. I have my profession—it is true”; (Miranda, like most other Spaniards, had studied law and obtained his degree in early manhood) “and if I should some day lose my position I have energy enough, and more than enough, to work hard and open an office in Madrid, where I could have a fine practice. I desire ease and comfort for my wife, but for her alone; as for my own wants, what I have is sufficient to supply them. The difference in fortune deterred me for a long time from asking Lucía’s hand, but the sentiment with which so much beauty and innocence has inspired me was too powerful to resist; notwithstanding this, however, if Colmenar had not assured me that you were generous-minded and disinterested, I should never have summoned resolution——”
“Señor Colmenar has far too high an opinion of me,” responded the flattered Leonese; “but those things require consideration. Go take a little trip——”