"Mercy, how frightful! a hundred and thirty. You might think he was condemned to death."

It was a pure invention. His pulse was quite normal, and Alcantara shook his head at his friends in denial. The jest did not vex him. Conscious of his own courage, and convinced that no one doubted it, he still smiled as calmly as before.

"Well, the funeral is at four to-morrow," said another. "I am sorry, because I had promised to go out hunting with Briones."

"And it is a long way to the cemetery at San Isidro," said a third.

"No, no, my dear fellow. We will take him to the Great Northern station, and carry him to Soto, the family Pantheon."

This joking was not in good taste; however, Alvaro made no demur, fearing perhaps that the least symptom of impatience might suggest a doubt of his perfect coolness. Encouraged by his phlegmatic smile, the "Savages" did not know when to leave off; the jest about the funeral was repeated with variations. In point of fact he was getting tired of it; but they could not move him from his cold and placid smile. He said very little, and when he spoke it was in a few supercilious words. At last, taking out his watch, he said: "It is three o'clock. Three-quarters of an hour yet. Who is for a game of cards?"

It was an excuse for releasing himself from these buzzing flies, and at the same time showed his perfect coolness. Three of the men went with him to the card-room. There the banter went on as it had done in the drawing-room.

"Look at him! How his hand shakes!"

"To think that within an hour he will have ceased to breathe!"

"I say, Alvaro, leave me Conchilla in your will."

"I see no objection," said Alvaro, arranging his hand.

"You hear, gentlemen, Conchilla is mine by the testator's will. What do you call such a will as that, Leon?"

"Nuncupatory," said Leon, who had picked up a few law terms in the course of a lawsuit against some cousins.

"Conchilla is mine, by nuncupatory bequest. Thank you, Alvaro. I will see that she goes into mourning, and we will respect your memory so far as may be. Have you any instructions to leave me?"

"Yes, to give her a dusting every eight or ten days; if she does not get a good cry once a week she falls ill."

"Very good, it shall be done."

"With a stick. She is used to a stick, and will not take a slapping."

"Quite so."

The fun grew broader and louder. Alvaro's imperturbability had the happiest effect. He understood that beneath all this banter his friends cared for him and appreciated his bravery.

At this moment a servant came in who handed him a note on a silver waiter. He took it and opened it with some interest. As he read it he again smiled and handed it to the man next him. It was from the manager of a Cemetery Company, offering his services and enclosing a prospectus and price list. Some of the youngsters had amused themselves by getting him to do it. But Luna did not take offence, and he seemed greatly interested in his game.

At last Juanito Escalona came to fetch him. After settling accounts he rose. They all gathered round him.

"Good luck to you, Alvaro!"

"I cannot bear to think of your being run through."

"Do not be absurd; there is no running through in the case. It will soon be over, with nothing but a scratch."

Jesting was now at an end, it was all good fellowship. Alvaro lighted a cigar with perfect coolness, and said quite easily: "_Au revoir_, gentlemen."

There was a large infusion of true courage in this demeanour; but there was also a touch of affectation, and deliberate effort. The younger members of the Savage Club, though not much addicted to literature, are nevertheless to a certain extent influenced by it. The cla.s.s of work they chiefly study is the _feuilleton_, and the fashionable novel. These books set up an ideal of manhood, as the old tales of chivalry did before them. Only in the old romances the model hero was he who attempted achievements beyond his strength, out of n.o.ble ideas of justice and charity, while in the modern story it is he who for fear of ridicule abstains from all enthusiasm and generosity. The man who was always risking his life for the cause of humanity is superseded by the man who risks it for empty vanity or foolish pride. Swagger has taken the place of chivalry.

The party remained, talking of their friend's coolness. However, he was not for long the subject of their praise, for the first rule of "high tone" is never to show surprise, and the second is to discuss trifles at some length and serious matters very briefly. The company presently broke up, all the ill.u.s.trious gentlemen going out to diffuse their doctrines throughout Madrid--doctrines which may be summed up as follows: "Man is born to sign I.O.U.'s and cultivate a waxed moustache.

Work, education, and steadiness are treason to the law of Nature, and should be proscribed from all well-organised society."

Maldonado, as usual, hung on to Pepe Castro's coat-tails. The reader is already aware of the deep admiration he felt for his model. And Pepe allowed himself to be admired with great condescension, initiating his disciple now and then into the higher arcana of his enlightenment on the subject of English horses and amber mouth-pieces. By degrees Ramon was acquiring clear notions, not alone of these matters, but also of the best manner of introducing French words into Spanish conversation. Pepe Castro was a perfect master of the art of forgetting at a proper moment some good Spanish word, and after a moment's hesitation bringing out the French with an air of perfect simplicity. Ramoncito did the same, but with less finish. He was also learning to distinguish Arcachon oysters from others not of Arcachon; Chateau Lafitte from Chateau Margaux; the chest-voice of a tenor from the head-voice; and Atkinson's tooth-paste from every imitation.

But, as yet, Ramon, like all neophytes, especially if they are p.r.o.ne to exaltation and enthusiasm, exaggerated on the example of the teacher. In shirt-collars, for instance. Because Pepe Castro wore them high and stiff, was that any reason why Ramoncito should go about G.o.d's world with his tongue hanging out, enduring all the preliminary tortures of strangulation? And if Pepe Castro, in consequence of a nervous affection he had suffered from all his life, constantly twitched his left eyelid--a very graceful trick no doubt--what right had Ramon to spend his time grimacing at people with his? Then, too, the young civilian scented not only his handkerchief and beard but all his clothes, so that from a distance of ten yards, it was almost enough to give you a sick headache. And there was certainly nothing in the doctrines of his venerated master to justify this detestable habit.

But the n.o.blest and loftiest precepts of a great man too often degenerate, or are perverted, when put into practice by followers and imitators. Pepe Castro, though he was aware of his disciple's deficiencies and imperfections, did not cast them in his teeth. On the contrary, with the magnanimity of a great nature, he showed his clemency in pardoning and screening them. In his presence no one dared to make game of Ramoncito's collars or grimaces.

It was a little after four when the two "Savages" came out of the club, b.u.t.toning their gloves. At the door stood de Castro's cart, which he sent away after fixing an hour for his drive. He was first to pay a visit by Ramoncito's request. They went down the Calle del Principe, where the club was situated, not hurrying themselves, and looking curiously at the women they met. They paused now and then to make some important remark on this one's elegance, or that one's style; not as bashful pa.s.sers-by who gaze and sigh, but rather as Bashaws, who, in a slave market, discuss the points of those exposed for sale. On the men they bestowed no more than a contemptuous glance, or, as if that were not enough, they shrouded themselves, so to speak, in a dense puff of smoke, to show that they, Pepe and Ramon, belonged to a superior world, and that if they were walking down the street, it was only in obedience to a transient whim. Whenever Castro condescended to be seen on foot, his face wore an expression of surprise that his presence was not hailed by the populace with murmurs of admiration.

Maldonado was the more talkative of the two. He expressed his opinion of those who came and went, looking up at Castro with a smile, while his friend remained grave and solemn, replying only in monosyllables and vague grunts. Ramoncito, it may be noted, was as far below his companion physically as mentally. When they walked out together they really looked very like some learned professor shedding the dew of learning drop by drop, and an ardent disciple greedy of knowledge.

"By the way, where are we going?" asked Castro, vaguely, when they had gone down three or four streets.

"Why, were we not going to call on the Calderons?" asked Ramon, timidly, and a little disconcerted.

"Ah! to be sure; I had forgotten."

Maldonado kept silence, wondering in his heart at the singular faculty of forgetfulness possessed by his friend. And they went along the Carrera de San Jeronimo to the Puerta del Sol.

"How are you getting on with Esperancita?" Castro condescended to inquire, blowing a cloud of smoke, and stopping to examine a shop-front.

Ramoncito suddenly turned very grave, almost pale, and began to stammer a reply.

"Just where I was. Sometimes up, sometimes down. One day she is very sweet--well, not sweet--no; but any rate she speaks to me. Another day she is as gloomy as the grave; hardly comes into the room before she is gone again; scarcely notices me--as if I had offended her. Once, I understood, she had some reason to be vexed, for at the opera I often go to the Gamboas' box, and I fancy she had taken it into her head that I was sweet on Rosaura. Can you imagine such folly? Rosaura! But I have not been near them for this month past, and she is just the same, dear boy, just the same. The other day I had her to myself in the little room for a few minutes, and in the greatest haste I just managed to tell her that I wanted to know where we were; for you see I cannot hang on for ever. Well, she listened to me patiently. I must tell you that I was altogether carried away, and hardly knew what I was saying. When I ended, she a.s.sured me she had nothing to be vexed about, and fled to the drawing-room. After that, would you not suppose that it was a settled thing? Tell me, would not any man in my place suppose that he was on the footing of a regular engagement? Nothing of the kind; two days after, when I called, I tried to say a few words to her apart, as a lover may, and she snubbed me--she froze me. So there I am. I do not know whether she loves me, or ever will, and I have not the peace of mind to go about my business, or do anything on earth but think of that confounded little s.l.u.t."

"It seems to me," replied Castro, without diverting his attention from the window before which they stood, "that the girl has begun the attack."

Ramoncito looked up at him with surprise and respect.

"The attack?" said he.

"Yes, the attack. In every battle the important point is to be the first to attack. If at the moment when the adversary is about to advance, you attack him with decision, you are almost sure to succeed; if you hesitate, you are lost."

As he uttered the last words, he turned away from the shop-window and continued his majestic progress along the side-walk. Ramon did the same; he had very imperfectly understood the application to his case of this simile, derived from the art of fencing, but he abstained from asking any explanation.

"So that you think----"

"I think that you are preposterously in love with the girl, and that she knows it."

"But then, Pepe, what reason can she have for refusing me?" Ramoncito began in a fume, as if he were talking to himself. "What does the girl expect? Her father is rich, but there are several children to divide the money. Mariana is still young, and besides, you know what Don Julian is.

He would be torn in pieces sooner than part with a dollar. Honestly, waiting for his death does not seem to me a very hopeful business. I am not a nabob, but I have my own fortune; and it is my own, without waiting for anybody to die. I can give her as much comfort and luxury as she has at home--more!" he added, giving his head a determined shake.

"Then I have a political career before me. I may be Under-Secretary or Minister some day when she least expects it. My family is better than hers; my grandfather was not a shop-keeper like Don Julian's father.

Besides, she is no G.o.ddess; she is not one of those girls you turn round to stare at, you know. Why should she give herself airs when I take a fancy to her? Do you know who is at the bottom of it all? Why, Cobo Ramirez, and such apes as he, who have turned her head for her. The little fool expects a prince of the blood to come courting her, perhaps!"

Ramoncito denied his lady's beauty, a sure sign of his being deeply and sincerely in love with her; his affection was not the offspring of vanity. His excess of devotion led him to run her down. Castro reflected that his companion's personal defects might have something to do with his ill-success in this and some other affairs; but he did not express the opinion. He thought it safer, as he closed his eyes and sucked his cigar, to p.r.o.nounce this general truth: