Doña Aurora, however, was not long in convincing herself that her plan of remaining always at home was impracticable, and it irritated her to think that perhaps she was taking unnecessary trouble, for the inclination of the young people for each other did not seem so strong as to justify all these
“And dismissing it shortly afterward, returned home on foot.”
precautions; and even if it were, to try to prevent them from seeing each other alone was like putting doors to an open field. A device then occurred to her by means of which to clear up her doubts and measure the magnitude of the danger. She had a key secretly made for the door of the apartment; and, provided with this, she drove out one morning in one of her “equipages”—that of Martin, it chanced to be—and dismissing it shortly afterward, returned home on foot, opened the door noiselessly with her key, and made her way softly to the lion’s den, where she supposed she should find Esclavita, nor was she mistaken. She found her quietly seated at her sewing, as usual, with that pensive and absorbed air which characterized her.
“Where is the Señorito?” Doña Aurora asked her suddenly, with the intention of taking her off her guard.
The girl, raising her serene or rather melancholy countenance, answered:
“I believe he is studying in his room. How did you get in, Señora? I did not hear the bell.”
“Fausta was going out,” hurriedly explained Doña Aurora, feeling as if she herself had been caught in the snare she had laid. She even felt her cheeks grow red. This was what might be called a take-in! So much secrecy about having the key made only to find that nothing particular was going on at the house, and that when she expected to surprise them in a stolen meeting she found everything going on in its usual routine. And yet she was not convinced. No, indeed. Let Satan convince himself. “Can this girl be slyer than I had imagined?” she thought. “Can she be deceiving me without my knowing it? Are they both laughing at me? For the glances and the whispered words when they meet and the unwillingness the boy shows to leave the house—no one can make me lose sight of all that; I have seen it, and what I see I see, and not all the preaching of all the bare-footed friars in the world would make me believe anything else. Instead of this failure reassuring me, I believe it will put me more on my guard than ever. No, I am not to be so easily hoodwinked as that. To protect my son I shall do everything in human power to do. They shall find me prepared—whatever may happen. That girl makes me afraid. She looks—I don’t know how—but I am not pleased with her. She is a true Galician: she keeps everything to herself, and one can never be sure of her, for she never lets you see what is passing in her mind. Well, then, against deceit greater deceit. Wait, wait for awhile; I shall find a way to get rid of you, and to get rid of you decently, in a way that will give you no room for complaint; on the contrary, you will be obliged to say that you are contented. And now—one nail drives out another, and boys will be boys—I am going to provide Rogelio with an amusement. I am going to give you a rival. Wait, girl; against wiles, counter-wiles. I have found a rival who shall supplant you.”
XX.
And in effect, before twenty-four hours had passed, Señora de Pardiñas had arranged an interview between her son and Esclavita’s rival. The place of rendezvous was the abode of the aforesaid rival, an obscure abode and not a very odorous one, as is apt to be the case with the dwellings of individuals of her class; for which reason, in order that Rogelio should make himself acquainted with the bearing and the figure of his new sweetheart, she was brought out into the yard unadorned, her graceful form was covered only by an old blanket, which Augustin Cuero, the proprietor of the livery stable, hastened to take off, so that not a single one of her charms should remain hidden from view.