She rose from the bed, and, holding out her hand, said to me in a trembling voice:
"Thank you, Ribot, many thanks. You are indeed a faithful friend to us.
G.o.d will reward you for all the good you have done, for I can never repay you."
I was moved to the depths of my soul by those simple words.
"Cristina," I replied, "I accept the t.i.tle that you so n.o.bly bestow upon me. I have been a loyal friend to you and to Emilio; I have watched over his interests and his honor with ceaseless care. But I have watched over my thoughts with even more diligence; because thoughts are restless things, and might, against my will, go straight away and annoy you. I have nothing to reproach myself with. I have always loved you as I love you now, with the respect that divine beings inspire. But in spite of all my efforts to stifle it, a strong desire lifts itself in my soul, and I feel that I shall never find peace if I do not suffer it to live, or at least need not kill it. Forgive me, Cristina, for the question I am going to ask. But may I not hope that some day you will call me by another name than friend?"
She remained grave and silent, looking down at the floor. Then she sat down in a chair near the candle-stand, leaned her elbow on the little table, and her head in her hand, and there she sat in a thoughtful att.i.tude. I knelt down beside her and let myself hope.
"Get up, Ribot," she said, giving me a sad and affectionate glance. "It causes me pain and almost shame to see at my feet the man who sweetened the last hours of my husband, who has sacrificed himself for me, and his fortune for my daughter. My heart tells me that this man should not be refused my very life if he asks it. But do you not think, Ribot, that there is something between us that ought to stop us, something that would overshadow the happiness that you have a right to? Remember the circ.u.mstances when we first knew each other. Examine the secret impulses that brought you to this place, those that you have felt since, your struggles, your thoughts, your joys and pains during these three years and a half. And tell me frankly if you do not imagine that conscience would not whisper to us that we had not acted with perfect delicacy. I believe it would; and I think I know you well enough to know that it would be enough to disturb the serenity of your life. This is what I hear speaking within my secret heart. While it is there, do you not think that if we were united there might rise in our world an infamous suspicion that would wound, even in his grave, our cherished one?"
I understood the truth of these words and my heart sank. The tears rushed to my eyes. I hid my face in my hands to conceal them.
"What? Do you weep, Ribot?" she exclaimed, leaning her head upon mine.
"No, in G.o.d"s name! no, do not weep, my friend! I have no right to cause you the slightest pain. I will do as you wish."
I shook my head and answered:
"Let me weep for a moment. It will pa.s.s."
My tears fell abundantly. When I lifted my head I saw that they were also streaming down her cheeks. I stood up and, drawing out my pocket-handkerchief, said smiling:
"Do you see! It"s over! Sadness and I were never very constant friends."
Then she took my hands and, pressing them warmly, looked into my eyes, exclaiming:
"Yet, truly, I would not hurt you! After my husband, no man has ever inspired me with so deep an affection!"
"These n.o.ble words not only give me strength to live," I answered, "but they make life lovely to me. How many times, leaning on the bridge of my ship, I have felt happy gazing at the shining stars! And why not now, when I can see these sweet eyes, so frank and so serene? Let me see them all my days, and I promise you I will always live in joy and peace!"
CHAPTER XVIII.
I kept my promise. Since then my days go on, happy and full of peace. I fixed my residence in Alicante, but for long s.p.a.ces of time, indeed during almost half the year, I am in Valencia. And when I am there, I am looked upon at Cristina"s house not merely as a friend, but as a member of the family. n.o.body fails to show delight when I am seen arriving, but most of all does my coming please my G.o.d-daughter, an enchanting little girl of five years, with eyes as luminous as her mother"s. As soon as she hears my step, she comes running to meet me, laughing and jumping, throws herself upon my neck, covers me with kisses, and pulls my beard in a way to bring tears--of pleasure.
I can hear her voice on the stair at this moment calling:
"Uncle Ribot! Uncle Ribot!" While I stay in Valencia she comes to the hotel for me every morning with her nurse. We go out together. We walk about the streets and in the Glorieta. We go into the confectioners"
shops (Julianita knows all the best ones that are to be found in the Hacienda) and buy sweets. We go to the flower-market and buy flowers.
And when luncheon time comes, we go to the house loaded with parcels and sprays of flowers. The mamma comes and opens the door for us. Her beautiful eyes shine with joy, and always glisten with grat.i.tude.
There is nothing more that I long for. Secure in the affection of these beings that I love, and in my own self-respect, I watch calmly the fleeting of the hours. Snow has begun to show slowly about my temples, but it does not touch my heart. Neither envy nor boredom enters it. And if, as I have heard Castell say many times, life has no flavor, I am persuaded that he does not know what it can give. For me it has a delicate, exquisite savor. I am an artist in happiness. This thought increases my pleasures.
And when inexorable death knocks at my door I shall not wait for him to call twice. With firm step and tranquil heart, I will go to meet him, and giving him my hand say:
"I have done my duty, and I have lived happily. n.o.body has suffered because of me. Whether I am led to a sweet eternal sleep, or to a new incarnation of this impalpable force that fills me, I have no fear. Here I am!"
But, no! it is not death that will in that moment knock at my door. It is life, radiant, immortal, divine! From my opened window I feel it and see it. The sun rises in the firmament and sheds its rays upon the garden. The flowers, shining, exhale their perfume. This light and these odors intoxicate me. Everything is riant, stirring, singing, in the world that I behold from my balcony. Beautiful is life! Her fruitful breath meets my own softly. What joy in the freshness of this springtime morning! The birds among the boughs sing joyfully with melodious voices in concert with the sunbeams.
But I would not exchange all their melodious voices for one that is now calling me impatiently from the stairway:
"Uncle Ribot, I am waiting for you!"
"I am coming, my girlie; I am coming."