The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (80 page)

Señorita Cimiento came in, looking somewhat bashful and not daring to raise her eyes to my father. She took some colours and mixed them in silence. Her timidity gave heart to my father. He stared at her and could not look away. He saw her with different eyes.

Busqueros had left the document about the publication of banns on
the table. Tremblingly, Señorita Cimiento went up to it, picked it up and read it, then she put her hand over her eyes and shed some tears. Since the death of my mother, my father had not wept and still less caused anyone else to weep. The tears which were addressed to him moved him all the more because he only dimly understood their cause.

Was Señorita Cimiento crying about the document itself or the lack of signature on it? Did she, or did she not, want to marry him? Meanwhile she went on crying. Leaving her to cry was altogether too cruel. Asking her to say what she thought would lead to a conversation. My father picked up a pen and signed the paper. Señorita Cimiento kissed his hand, took the paper and went away.

She came back to the drawing-room at the usual time, kissed my father's hand in silence and began to make sealing-wax. My father smoked cigars and counted the tiles on the palacio de Alba. My great-uncle, Fray Gerónimo Sántez, arrived towards midday and brought a marriage contract in which my interests were not neglected. My father signed it, Señorita Cimiento signed it, kissed my father's hand and went back again to making sealing-wax.

Since the destruction of his great ink-bottle, my father had not dared to show himself at the theatre, still less to appear at Moreno's bookshop. This reclusion wearied him. Three days had passed since the signature of the contract. Don Busqueros came to propose to my father a ride in a calèche. My father accepted. They went beyond the Manzanares and when they reached the little church of the Franciscans, Busqueros had my father step down. They went into the church and found Señorita Cimiento there, waiting for them in the porch. My father opened his mouth to say that he thought he was just going for a ride but he said nothing, took Señorita Cimiento's hand and led her to the altar.

Having left the church, the newly-married couple stepped into a fine carriage, returned to Madrid and went into a pretty house where a ball was being held. Señora Avadoro opened the ball, partnered by a very handsome young man. They danced a fandango and were much applauded. In vain my father searched in his wife for the sweet and calm person who kissed his hand with such a submissive air. What he saw on the contrary was a lively, noisy, flibbertigibbet.
Otherwise he said nothing to anybody and nobody spoke to him. This way of things did not displease him too much.

Cold meats and refreshments were served: then my father, who was exhausted, asked if it wasn't time to go home. He was told that he was there already, and that the house he was in belonged to him. My father supposed that the house was part of his wife's dowry; so he had himself shown to his bedroom and went to bed.

The next morning Señor and Señora Avadoro were woken by Busqueros.

‘Señor, dear cousin,' he said to my father, ‘I call you this because your good wife is the closest relative I have in the world, her mother being a Busqueros from the León branch of my family. Up to now I have not wanted to talk to you about your affairs but I expect from now on to attend to them more than I attend to my own, which will be all the easier for me since I haven't actually any particular business of my own. As far as you are concerned, Señor Avadoro, I have taken the trouble of informing myself in detail of your revenues and the use you have made of them over the last sixteen years. Here are all the relevant papers. At the time of your first marriage you had an income of four thousand pistoles and, by the way, you didn't manage to spend it all. You only kept for yourself six hundred pistoles and two hundred for the education of your son. So you had three thousand, two hundred pistoles over, which you placed in the Gremios bank. You gave the interest to Gerónimo the Theatine to be used for charitable purposes. I don't blame you on this account, but, bless me! (and I feel for the poor over this), they cannot count on this revenue any longer. First, we will manage to spend your annual income of four thousand pistoles and, as for the fifty-one thousand, two hundred deposited with the Gremios bank, this is how we will dispose of them. Eighteen thousand for this house. It's a lot, I admit, but the seller is one of my relatives and my relatives are yours, Señor Avadoro. The necklace and the earrings that you see on Señora Avadoro are worth eight thousand pistoles. As we are brothers we will put down ten thousand. I'll tell you why some day. That leaves us twenty-three thousand, two hundred pistoles. Your devil of a Theatine has reserved fifteen thousand for your urchin of a son, if he's ever found again. Five thousand to set up your house, for between
ourselves your wife's trousseau consists of six shifts and as many stockings. You'll tell me you still have five thousand pistoles left, which you don't know what to do with. Well now, to get you out of your difficulty I'll agree to borrow them from you at a rate of interest to be agreed between us. And here's a power of attorney, which you will be so kind as to sign, Señor Avadoro.'

My father could not get over the surprise that Busqueros's words caused him. He opened his mouth to reply but, not knowing where to begin, he turned over in bed and pulled his nightcap over his eyes.

‘Splendid!' said Busqueros. ‘You're not the first person who thought that he could get rid of me by putting on his nightcap and pretending to want to sleep. I'm used to these ways and always keep a nightcap in my pocket. I shall just settle down on that sofa and when we've all had a little nap we'll come back to the power of attorney. Or, if you prefer, we'll bring together your relatives and mine and we'll see what there is to be done.'

With his head buried in his pillow, my father thought seriously about the situation and the policy he should adopt to ensure his tranquillity. He saw that if he left his wife completely free, he might be allowed to live after his own manner: to go to the theatre, then to Moreno's bookshop and he might even make some ink. Somewhat consoled, he opened his eyes and indicated that he would sign the power of attorney.

So he actually signed it and made as if to get up.

‘Wait a moment, Señor Avadoro,' said Busqueros. ‘Before you get up, it will be appropriate for me to inform you of the programme of your day. I believe that it won't displease you, as today, like those which will follow, will be nothing but a series of lively and varied pleasures. First, I have brought you a fine pair of embroidered gaiters and a complete riding outfit. A decent palfrey awaits you at your door. We will go together and parade a bit around the Prado. Señora Avadoro will come in a
chaise roulante
. You will discover that she has illustrious friends in society who will be yours too, Señor Avadoro. To tell you the truth, they had grown rather cool towards her but seeing her married to a man of your quality they'll change their mind about their attitude. I'm telling you the highest gentlemen of the
court will seek you out, will wait on you and will embrace you. More than that, they'll throttle you with embraces.'

At this my father fainted, or at least fell into a state of stupor very similar to a faint.

Busqueros did not notice but continued to speak. ‘Some of these gentlemen will do you the honour of inviting themselves to your table to eat your soup. Yes, Señor Avadoro, they will do you this honour and that's where I'll expect you to be. You'll see how well your wife will do the honours of the house. Ah, bless me! You won't recognize the person who made sealing-wax. You're not saying a word, Señor Avadoro! You're right to leave me to speak. Now, for example, you like the Spanish theatre but you've never been to the Italian opera, which is all the rage at court. Well, you'll go this evening and guess in whose box you'll be? In that of the Duke of Ihar, Master of the Horse, no less. From there we'll go on to the
tertulia
¹
of His Highness, where you'll see all the court. Everyone will speak to you. Make sure that you have an answer ready!'

My father had recovered the use of his senses, but a cold sweat emanated from all his pores. His arms stiffened, the back of his neck grew tense, his head fell back, his eyelids opened abnormally wide, his constricted chest gave out stifled groans and he began to have convulsions. Eventually Busqueros noticed the state he was in and called for help, then rushed off to the Prado, where he was joined by my stepmother.

My father had fallen into a state of lethargy. When he emerged from it, he recognized no one except for his wife and Busqueros. When he saw them, fury was written all over his features. Otherwise, he was calm, remained silent and refused to leave his bed. When he was absolutely obliged to do so, he seemed pierced through with cold and shivered for half an hour. Soon the symptoms grew more troublesome. The patient could only take food in very small quantities. A convulsive spasm constricted his throat, his tongue was stiff and swollen, his eyes were dull and haggard, his skin was dark yellow, covered with white tubercles.

I had slipped into the house in the guise of a servant and I sadly charted the course of his illness. My Aunt Dalanosa was in my confidence and spent many nights by his bedside. The patient did not seem to recognize her. As for my stepmother, it was clear that her presence was very bad for the patient. Father Gerónimo encouraged her to leave for the provinces and Busqueros followed her there.

I thought of a last resort which might just lift the unhappy man out of his hypochondria. And indeed it had a short-lived success. One day, through a half-open door, my father caught sight of a jar very similar to the one which had once been used to manufacture his ink. Next to it was a table on which there were various ingredients and scales to weigh them. A sort of hilarity crossed my father's features. He got out of bed, went up to the table and asked for a chair. As he was very weak, others performed the operations in front of him and he followed the various procedures. The next day he was able to take part in the work and the day after there were even more hopeful signs.

But a few days later a fever manifested itself which had absolutely nothing to do with his illness. The symptoms were not distressing, but the patient's weakness was such that he could not resist the slightest affliction. He passed away without having been able to recognize me, however hard people had tried to make him remember his son. And that was the end of a man who wasn't born with even the degree of physical and mental strength sufficient to give him an average amount of energy. A sort of instinct had led him to choose a way of life which was proportionate to his powers. He was killed by people wishing to propel him into active life.

It is time to return to my affairs. My two years of penance were nearly over. In deference to Fray Gerónimo, the Inquisition allowed me to take my name back on the condition that I would do a spell as a caravanist on the galleys of Malta, which I accepted joyfully, hoping that I would encounter the Knight of Toledo, not as a servant but more or less as his equal. And to tell you the truth I was tired of wearing rags. I kitted myself out with luxury, trying on all my clothes at my Aunt Dalanosa's house, who died of joy at the sight of them. I left very early one morning to keep my transformation from the eyes of the curious. I embarked at Barcelona and reached Malta
after a short voyage. My meeting with the knight gave me even more pleasure than I expected.

The knight assured me that he had never been fooled by my disguise and that he had always counted on making me his friend once I had reverted to my original rank. He was captain of a galley. He took me on board and we sailed the seas for four months without inflicting much harm on the Barbary pirates, whose light vessels could easily outrun us.

That is the end of the story of my childhood. I have related it to you in all its details for they have remained engraved on my memory. It still seems to me that I can see the cell of the Theatine teacher at Burgos, and the stern profile of Father Sanudo. I can still feel what it was like to eat chestnuts in front of the portal of St Roch and to hold out my hand to the noble Knight of Toledo. I won't tell you the story of my early manhood in the same detail. Whenever my imagination transports me back to the most brilliant part of my life, all I can perceive is a hotchpotch of all kinds of passions, their tumult and their turmoil. The feelings which then filled my soul and raised it up towards a secret happiness have sunk into the deepest oblivion. It is true that I can still see, shining through the mist, the rays of requited love, but those to whom this love was directed have merged into a single blurred image, in which I see only tender, beautiful women and merry girls with their snow-white arms around my neck. I can even see gloomy duennas unable to resist this moving sight, bringing together lovers they should have kept for ever apart. I can see the light I so fervently watched for signalling to me from a window, and the secret staircases leading me to hidden doors. How supremely blissful those moments were! Four o'clock strikes, the day dawns and lovers must part. Alas! Even partings had their sweetness. The story of youthful love is, I believe, the same all over the world. My amorous adventures could not really interest you, but I think you will be willing to listen to the story of my first real passion. The circumstances are astonishing. They might even be thought to be miraculous. But the day is growing late and I have still to think about the business of my band. Please allow me to begin again tomorrow.