“His mother ... would seat herself at his bed-side and hold the tray.”{102}
And what anxiety and trouble this glass of milk cost Doña Aurora! She knew more on the subject than the entire municipal board of chemists; without analysis or instruments or other nonsense of the kind, she could distinguish, simply by looking at it, by its color and its odor, every grade and quality of milk that is consumed in Madrid. For her hopes of seeing Rogelio grow robust were all centered in that glass of milk drank before going to college, and in the beefsteak eaten after returning from it.
While he was taking his chocolate, it was that all the events of the preceding day were discussed, the amusing skirmishes between Nuño Rasura and Lain Calvo, the college jokes, the latest crime, last night’s fire, together with all the trifling incidents of that home so truly peaceful like many another in the capital, notwithstanding the provincial superstition that Madrid is a perpetual whirlpool or vortex, Rogelio’s first words on the morning following the day of the Galician’s application were to ask his mother with ill-disguised interest:
“Well, what did they tell you about the fair maid—of all work?”
There was nothing strange or out of the way in his asking this question, and yet Doña Aurora was somewhat embarrassed by it, and hesitated whether she should tell him what she had heard or keep it to herself. No, it would be more prudent to say nothing about it. It was a serious matter, and if Rogelio should be wanting in discretion—it was necessary to proceed with caution.
“See, little mouse, in the first place I must tell you that I have dismissed Pepa.”
“Hello! Is a change of ministry to take place here without my being consulted in the matter?”
“You shall hear! She was getting to be very conceited, very fond of answering back. So I handed her her wages. I will bear anything from them but answering back. I suppose there was a lover in the business or she would not——. To tell the truth I am tired of these Madrid servants, they are so upsetting and unbearable with their airs and assurance. I prefer a modest, docile girl. With a civil word you can conquer me, I can’t help it. If you were to see that Pepa, as stubborn as a mule and as wild as a mountain rabbit. Ah, I can’t believe that she is gone!”
“Mater, enough of prolegomena,” exclaimed the boy, dipping the end of his biscuit into the milk. “All this means that you are going to take the black-robed Unknown. She found her way straight into your heart through your eyes. We all have our weaknesses.”
“Don’t be foolish. What I want is that things should run smoothly in the house. That is a deserving girl. When I say so——”