In the kitchen of Can Mallorqui Margalida"s suitors stood in a group, in damp, steaming clothing and muddy sandals. Tonight the courting lasted longer. Pep, with a paternal air, had allowed the youths to remain after the time for the wooing had pa.s.sed; he felt sorry for the poor boys who must walk home through the rain. He had been a suitor himself once upon a time. They might wait; perhaps the storm would soon pa.s.s; and if it did not they should stay and sleep wherever they could, in the kitchen, on the porch. "One wouldn"t turn out a dog on such a night."
The youths, rejoicing in the event, which added more time to their courting, gazed at Margalida arrayed in her gala dress, seated in the center of the room, a vacant chair beside her. Each one had taken his turn at sitting upon it during the course of the evening, and now all looked at it eagerly, but lacked courage to occupy it again.
The Ironworker, wishing to outshine the others, was tw.a.n.ging a guitar, singing in low tones, accompanied by the rolling of the thunder. The Minstrel, sitting in a corner, was meditating new verses. Some boys hailed with mocking words the lightning flashes, which filtered through the cracks of the door, and the Little Chaplain smiled, sitting on the floor, his chin in his hands.
Pep was dozing in a low chair, overcome by weariness, and his wife screamed with terror whenever a loud thunder clap shook the house, interjecting between her groans fragments of prayers, murmured in Castilian for greater efficacy: "_Santa Barbara bendita, que en el cielo estas escrita_----" Margalida, heedless of the glances of her suitors, seemed half dead with fright.
Suddenly there came two taps upon the door. The dog, who had scrambled to his feet scenting the presence of someone on the porch, stretched his neck, but instead of barking he wagged his tail in welcome.
Margalida and her mother glanced fearfully toward the door. Who could it be, at that time, on that night, in the solitude of Can Mallorqui? Had anything happened to the senor?
Aroused by the knocking, Pep sat up straight in his chair. "Come in, whoever you are!" He gave the invitation with the dignity of a Roman paterfamilias, absolute master of his house. The door was not locked.
It opened, giving pa.s.sage to a gust of rain-laden wind, which made the candle flicker, and refreshed the dense atmosphere of the kitchen. The dark rectangle of the doorway was lighted by the splendor of a lightning flash, and all saw in it, against the livid sky, a kind of penitent, with half-concealed face, a hooded figure, dripping rain.
He entered with firm tread, with no word of greeting, followed by the dog sniffing at his legs with affectionate growls. He strode directly toward the vacant chair beside Margalida, the place reserved for the suitors.
As he took his seat he flung back his hood and fixed his eyes on the girl.
"Ah!" she gasped, turning pale, her eyes widening in surprise.
So great was her emotion, so violent, her impulse to draw away from him, that she nearly fell to the floor.
PART THIRD
CHAPTER I
THE INTRUDER
Two days later, when Don Jaime was awaiting his dinner in the tower, having returned from a fishing excursion, Pep presented himself and deposited the basket upon the table with an air of solemnity.
The rustic tried to make excuse for this extraordinary visit. His wife and Margalida had gone to the hermitage of the Cubells again, and the boy had accompanied them.
Febrer began to eat with a l.u.s.ty appet.i.te after having been on the sea since daybreak, but the serious air of the peasant at last claimed his attention.
"Pep, you want to say something to me, but you are afraid," said Jaime, in the Ivizan dialect.
"That is true, senor."
Like all timid persons who doubt and vacillate before speaking, but rush into it impetuously when fear is overcome, Pep bluntly unburdened his mind.
Yes, he had something to say; something very important! He had been thinking the matter over for two whole days, and he could keep silent no longer. He had taken it upon himself to bring the senor"s dinner merely for the sake of speaking. Why did Don Jaime make fun of those who were so fond of him? What did he mean?
"Make fun of you!" exclaimed Febrer.
"Yes, make fun of us!" Pep declared sadly. "How about what happened that stormy night? What caprice impelled the senor to present himself at the courting, taking the chair beside Margalida, as if he were a suitor? Ah, Don Jaime! The "festeigs" are solemn occasions; men kill one another on account of them. I knew that fine gentlemen laugh at all this, and consider the peasants of the island about the same as savages; but the poor should be left to their customs, and they should not be disturbed in their few pleasures."
Now it was Febrer who a.s.sumed a serious countenance.
"But I am not making fun of you, my dear Pep! It"s all true! Listen! I am one of Margalida"s suitors, like the Minstrel, like the detested Ironworker, like all other boys who gather in your kitchen to court her.
I came the other night because I could bear no more, because I suddenly realized the cause of all that I have been suffering, because I love Margalida, and I will marry her if she will accept me."
His sincere and impa.s.sioned accent banished all doubt from the peasant"s mind.
"Then it is really true!" he exclaimed. "The girl had told me something of this, weeping, when I asked her the motive of the senor"s visit. I could not believe her at first. Girls are so pretentious! They imagine that every man is running mad after them; so it is really true!"
This knowledge caused him to smile, as at something unexpected and amusing.
"What a strange man you are, Don Jaime! It is very kind of you to make demonstrations of esteem for the household of Can Mallorqui; but it is not good for the girl, for she was giving herself airs, imagining herself worthy of a prince, and will not accept any of the peasants.
"It cannot be, senor. Don"t you understand that it cannot be? I was young myself once, and I know what it is; how one takes a notion to chase after any girl who is not ugly; but later on one reflects, he thinks about what is good and what is not good, what is proper, and in the end he does not commit a foolish deed. Have you thought it over, really, senor? That was a joke the other night, a caprice----"
Febrer shook his head energetically. No, neither a joke nor a caprice.
He loved Margalida, the graceful Almond Blossom; he was convinced of his pa.s.sion, and he would follow wherever she might lead. He intended in future to do as he pleased, laying aside scruples and prejudices. He had been a slave to them long enough. No; he would have no regret. He loved Margalida, he was one of her suitors, with the same right as any island youth. He meant every word he said.
Pep, scandalized at these words, wounded in his most conventional and ancient ideas, raised his hands, while his simple soul showed in his eyes full of fear and surprise.
"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!"
He was compelled to call upon the ruler of heaven to give expression to his perturbation and astonishment. A Febrer wishing to marry a peasant of Can Mallorqui! The world was no longer the same; it seemed as if all the laws of the universe were turned upside down, as if the sea were about to cover the island, and that in future the almond trees would put forth their flowers above the waves; but had Don Jaime realized what this desire of his signified?
All the respect engendered in the soul of the peasant during long years of servitude to the n.o.ble family, the religious veneration his parents had infounded in him when, in his childhood, he saw the gentlemen from Majorca arrive at the island, was now revived, protesting at this absurdity, as something contrary to human custom and to the divine will.
Don Jaime"s father had been a powerful personage, one of those who made laws over there in Madrid; he had even lived in the royal palace. He still saw him in his memory, just as he had imagined him in the credulous illusions of boyhood, bending men to his will; able to send some to the gallows and pardoning others according to his caprice; seated at the table of monarchs and playing cards with them, just as Pep himself might do with a crony in the tavern at San Jose; addressing one another by the familiar "thou"; and when he was not in the court city, he was an absolute seignior in vessels of iron--the kind that spit smoke and cannon b.a.l.l.s. How about Jaime"s grandfather, Don Horacio? Pep had seen him but few times, and yet he still trembled with respect as he recalled his regal appearance, his grave, unsmiling face, and the imposing gesture which accompanied his benevolent acts. He was a king after the ancient style, one of those kings who are good and just fathers of the poor, offering bread with one hand and holding a rod in the other.
"And do you wish to have Pep, the poor peasant of Can Mallorqui, become a relative of your father and of your grandfather and of all those great lords who were masters in Majorca and rulers of the world? Come, Don Jaime, I can"t help thinking it all a joke; your seriousness does not deceive me. Don Horacio also used to say the funniest things without losing his judge"s face."
Jaime swept his eyes around the interior of the tower, smiling at his poverty.
"But I am poor, Pep! You are rich, compared to me. Why think of my family, when I am living on your generosity? If you were to cast me out I would not know where to go."
The gesture of incredulity with which Pep always received such humble declarations, was renewed.
Poor? But was not this tower his? Febrer replied with a smile. Bah! Four old stones that were falling apart; an unproductive hill, which would be worth something only if the peasant should cultivate it. But the latter insisted; there was the property in Majorca, which, even though it were somewhat enc.u.mbered, was much--much!
And he extended his arms with a gesture indicating immensity, as if no one could measure the fortune of Jaime, adding convincingly:
"A Febrer is never poor. You can never be that. Better days will come."
Jaime ceased trying to make him realize his poverty. If he thought him rich so much the better. Thus those youths, who knew no broader horizon than that of the island, could not say that he was a ruined man seeking to marry into Pep"s family in order to recover the lands of Can Mallorqui.
Why should the peasant be so surprised at his desire to marry Margalida?
In the end it was nothing more than the repet.i.tion of an eternal history, that of the disguised and vagabond king falling in love with the shepherdess and giving her his hand. He was no king, neither was he in disguise, but in a situation of absolute need.