“Yes, yes,” said the landlord, “wine instead of blood. But don’t you forget that the faultfinders—”
“I shall tear your tongue out.”
“Let us be more quiet, my friends,” said the chubby-cheeked. “Why shouldn’t we know all that is said about Doña Elena and her daughters? We will lose nothing by listening to Master Crispin, and it is only just that we should appreciate his good intentions.”
“You speak sensibly.”
The landlord brought out more wine.
However, before we repeat what he said, it would be well to take more particular notice of these hidalgos.
CHAPTER III.
IN WHICH WE COMPLETE OUR ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE THREE WOOERS, AND OTHER THINGS.
We will begin with Señor Alonso whose surname was Pacheco. He was a native of Salamanca, where he had studied philology, and left his home because he was displeased at his father’s second marriage. He followed the only career possible to him in that epoch, that is he enlisted and served for three years in Italy, leaving behind him proofs of his great valor. This profession might have proved lucrative for him, for he was much thought of by his chiefs, but he was dangerously wounded, during his three years service, and before he had completely recovered his strength, he received a letter from his father in which he informed him of the death of his step-mother and complained of feeling sad and lonely during these last years of his life. Since the cause of Señor Alonso’s discontent was thus removed, and as he loved his father, and was besides growing tired of the reckless life of a soldier, he left its perils and its glory to others, and returned home. Two years passed away, and his father died, leaving him a sufficient income to allow him to live decently, and a lawsuit of great importance which, two years later, brought him to court, where he had been only once before, for a few days on his way to Italy. Señor Alonso had never been in love, first, on account of the circumstances in his family, and afterward, because, in his life as a soldier, he had never had a chance to think of women, except as objects of diversion, beings who helped to make his life more pleasant. For the last two months of his stay in Madrid, he had been absorbed in his lawsuit, which was apparently approaching its end and looked so promising that it seemed not only possible but probable that he would soon find himself quite wealthy. Eight days before our story opens, he had in coming out of the church of San Jose,—which is now no longer in existence,—noticed among a crowd of people the head of a lady on whose face he had been compelled to fix his gaze, even against his own wishes. We may mention that the hidalgo’s suddenly became as red as though the blood were trying to rush out, and then he turned pale and nervous, and began sighing and trembling as though he were quite weary. What had happened? He himself could not explain it, but the fact is that Doña Sol’s black eyes were the cause of this commotion. It was only for a moment, a single moment, that the young girl had looked into the face of the hidalgo, but it was enough to make him feel as he had never felt before, and he became so excited that very little was wanting to make him forget that he was in a sacred place, and force himself through the crowd toward her, causing the greatest scandal. But he soon lost sight of those eyes of fire, and provokingly tempting lips, and longing to see them again, he moved forward, elbowing his way from one side to the other, and looking about him constantly, until at last he reached the street. Here he could move at ease, for the faithful (Catholic Christians who live in obedience to the church) were dispersing in every direction. He looked about him like a dog nosing in the air, but he had lost his black eyes. He ran up the street, and then back, but the bewitching being had completely disappeared, making it impossible for him to find out who she was or where he could see her. When at last he rested he was out of breath. He clenched his fist with all the force of despair, for his desires were kindling more and more as the obstacles which he encountered increased. Thus the hidalgo stood for more than half an hour, leaning against a wall, with drooping head, eyes closed, arms folded, and mind engaged in contemplating the lady of the black eyes. As he could do nothing more, he had to resign himself to fate, trusting that an accident might bring about better luck. He went to church the next day, but without meeting her. Thus he passed four days, always preoccupied, sleeping very little, and eating still less, when one morning, returning from mass, and passing down Las Infantas street, he heard a woman’s voice, and raising his eyes, could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and joy, for there on the balcony was the bewitching brunette, leaning out to call after a man who was just leaving the house. The man, who was small, ugly and stupid looking, returned and entered. Doña Sol, as if by accident, looked at the hidalgo, left the balcony, turned round to close the blind, gave him another glance, and disappeared.
“Ah,” sighed Señor Alonso, as though he wished to send his soul after the young lady, “how happy I am!”
There was no longer any necessity to search for her; all he had to do was to approach her. Judging correctly that the little man was a servant, he decided to wait for his return, imagining that as his purse was well stocked it was all that was necessary. In less than five minutes the servant came back and started on his errand. Señor Alonso followed him, stopped him in La Horteleza street, and, showing him a gold piece, said,