Chapter XXXII.
Changes.
The modest Linares was serious and very uneasy. He had just received a letter from Doña Victorina which, translated from the most illiterate Spanish, and omitting its many errors in spelling and punctuation, was as follows:
“Esteemed Cousin:—Within three days I want to know from you if you have killed the alferez or he you. I don’t want another day to pass without this animal being punished. If this length of time passes and still you have not challenged him, I will tell Don Santiago that you never were secretary and that you never joked with Canovas or with General Martinez. I will tell Clarita that it is all a lie and I will not give you another cuarto. If you challenge him, I promise you all that you wish. If you do not challenge him, I will accept no excuses or reasons.
“Your cousin who loves you in her heart.
”Victorina de los Reyes de de Espadaña.
“Sampalog, Monday Eve, 7 o’clock.”
It was a serious matter. Linares knew Doña Victorina’s character and knew what she was capable of doing. To reason with her was out of the question; to beg was useless; to deceive her worse. There was no other remedy than to challenge.
“But what can I do?” he said to himself, as he was walking alone. “If he receives me harshly? If I meet his wife? Who would want to be my second? The curate? Captain Tiago? Cursed be the hour in which I gave ear to her advice! What will this señorita say about me? Now I am sorry to have been secretary to all the ministers.”
The good Linares was in this sad soliloquy when Father Salví arrived. The Franciscan was certainly thinner and paler than usual, but his eyes shone with a peculiar light and a strange smile was seen on his lips.
“Señor Linares, all alone?” saluted the priest and directed his steps to the sala, through the half open door of which notes of the piano were heard.
Linares restrained a smile.