X.
They seated themselves near the window in the parlor in a couple of rocking-chairs brought from Orense. The garden and the vineyard breathed a lazy tranquillity, a silence so profound that the dull sound of the ripe peaches breaking from the branch and falling on the dry ground could be plainly heard. Through the open window came odors of fruit and honey. In the house unbroken silence reigned.
"Will you have a cigar?"
"Thanks."
The cigars were lighted and Segundo, following Don Victoriano's example, began to rock himself. The rhythmical movement of the rocking-chairs, the drowsy quiet of the place, invited to a serious and confidential conversation.
"And you, what do you do in Vilamorta? You are a lawyer, are you not. I think I have heard that it is your intention to succeed your father in his practice—a very intelligent man."
Segundo felt that the occasion was propitious. The smoke of the cigars, diffusing itself through the atmosphere, softened the light, disposing him to confidence and dispelling his habitual reserve.
"The thought of beginning now the career my father is just ending horrifies me," he said, in answer to the ex-Minister's question. "That sordid struggle to gain a little money, more or less, those village intrigues, that miserable plotting and planning, that drawing-up of documents—I was made for none of those things, Señor Don Victoriano. It is not that I could not practice. I have been a fair student and my good memory always brought me safely through in the examinations. But for what does the profession of law serve? For a foundation, nothing more. It is a passport, a card of admission to some office."
"Well——" said Don Victoriano, shaking the ashes from his cigar, "what you say is true, very true. What is learned at the University is of scarcely any use afterward. As for me, if it had not been for my apprenticeship with Don Juan Antonio Prado, who taught me to make a practical use of my legal knowledge and to know how many teeth there are in a comb, I should not have distinguished myself greatly by my Compostelan learning. My friend, what makes a man of one, what really profits one is this terrible apprenticeship, the position in which a boy finds himself when a pile of papers is set before him, and a pompous gentleman says to him, 'Study this question to-day and have ready for me by to-morrow a formulated opinion on it.' There is the rub! That is what makes you sweat and bite your nails! There neither laziness nor ignorance will avail you. The thing must be done, and as it cannot be done by magic——"
"Even in Madrid and on a large scale the practice of the law has no attractions for me. I have other aspirations."