"Well, as you always are at home in the morning, Senor Duque----"

"d.a.m.n you!" said the banker, with a furious scowl. But raising his voice at once, and putting on the clumsy abruptness which he was so fond of affecting: "Show them in, of course," he said, "show the gentlemen in."

On this Calderon came in, followed by Urreta and two other bankers not less well known in Madrid. They all looked grave, almost sinister. But Salabert, paying no heed to their looks, began shaking hands and slapping backs, making a great noise. "Good business! Very good business, now to lock you all four up, and make you each pay a round sum as ransom! Ha, ha! Why here, in my room, are the four richest rascals in Madrid. Four gorged sharks! How is your rheumatism, Urreta? It strikes me that you want thoroughly overhauling as much as I do. And you, Manuel, how long do you expect to hold out? Your cousin, you see, is looking out very sharp."

The four gentlemen maintained a courteous reserve, and their extreme gravity cut short this impertinent banter. The case was, in fact, a serious one. About a year ago Salabert had sold them the business of a railway from B---- to S----, which was already in full work, with all the plant and rolling-stock. Though it had not been committed to writing, it was fully understood by both parties that when the extension from S---- to V---- should be put up for sale, as it was in connection with the other line, Salabert should advance no claims, but leave it to them to treat for it. Now, it had come to their knowledge that the Duke had failed to keep his word, and had tried to jockey them in the most barefaced way, by making a bid for the line.

The first to speak was Calderon.

"Antonio," he said, "we have come to quarrel with you very seriously."

"Impossible! Quarrel with such an inoffensive creature as I am?"

"You will remember that when we bought up your railway, you agreed, or to be accurate, you solemnly promised, not to tender for the purchase of the extension from S---- to V----."

"Certainly I remember it, perfectly."

"But we see with surprise that an offer from you----"

"An offer from me!" exclaimed the Duke, in the greatest surprise, and opening his prominent eyes very wide. "Who told you that c.o.c.k-and-bull story?"

"It is not a c.o.c.k-and-bull story. I, myself, saw your signature," said the Marques de Arbiol.

"My signature? Impossible."

"My good friend, I tell you I saw it with my own eyes. 'Antonio Salabert, Duke de Requena,'" replied Arbiol, very gravely.

"It cannot be; it is impossible!" repeated the Duke, walking up and down the room in the most violent excitement. "It must be a forgery."

Arbiol smiled scornfully.

"It bore your seal."

"My seal?" he exclaimed, with ready parry. "Then the forgery was committed in my own house. You cannot imagine what scoundrels I have about me. I should need a hundred eyes." Foaming with rage, he rang the bell.

"Now we shall see; we will find out whether I have been deceived or no.

Send Llera in here," he said to the servant who appeared. "And all the clerks--immediately, this instant!"

Arbiol glanced at his companions, and shrugged his shoulders. But Requena, though he saw this, did not choose to notice it; he went on growling, snorting, uttering the most violent interjections, and walking to and fro. Presently Llera made his appearance, followed by a group of abject-looking clerks, ill-dressed and common. Salabert placed himself in front of them, with his arms crossed, and said vehemently:

"Look here, Llera, I mean to find out who is the scoundrel who presented a tender, in my name, with a forged copy of my signature, for the purchase of the S---- and V---- line of railway. Do you know anything of the matter?"

Llera, after looking him straight in the face, bent his head without replying.

"And you others, do you know anything about it? Heh, do you know anything whatever?"

The clerks in the same way stared at him; then they looked at Llera, and they too bent their heads and stood speechless.

Salabert, with well-feigned fury, eyed them all in turn, and at length addressing his visitors:

"You see," he said; "no one answers. The guilty man, or men, lurk among them; for I suspect that more than one must be concerned. Do not be afraid, I will give them a lesson, a terrible lesson. I will not rest till I have them before the judge. Go," he added, to the delinquents, "and those of you who are guilty may well quake. Justice will soon overtake you."

To judge by the absolute indifference with which this fulmination was received, the criminals must have been hardened indeed. Each man went back to his place and his work as though the sword of Nemesis were not drawn to cut his throat.

The bankers were half amused and half angry. At last one of the quartette, biting his lips for fear of laughing outright, held out his hand with a contemptuous gesture, saying:

"Good-bye, Salabert--_au revoir_."

The others followed his example without another word about the business which had brought them. The Duke was not at all disconcerted; he politely saw them to the head of the stairs, firing wrathful lightnings at his clerks as he led his visitors through the office. On his return he took not the slightest notice of the men; he walked down the room like an actor crossing behind the scenes as he comes off the stage.

Soon after this performance he went downstairs himself, to go to his wife's room. He found her alone, reading a book of devotions. Dona Carmen, who had always been pious, had of late given herself up almost exclusively to religious exercises. Her failing strength cut her off more and more from the outer world, and left her sadly submissive to the priests who visited her. Salabert had never opposed this taste for devotion; he regarded it with pitying indifference, as an innocent mania. However, just lately, some rather large bounties of Dona Carmen's had alarmed him, and he had felt obliged to give her a paternal lecture.

He was accustomed to find her submissive, unambitious, absolutely indifferent to the result of his various speculations; he treated her as a child, if not as a faithful dog, whose head he might now and then pat kindly. The hapless woman never had interfered in his life, his toil, or his vices. Though his mistresses and fearful extravagance were discussed by all the rest of the world, Dona Carmen knew nothing of them, or ignored them. Nevertheless, the Duke's last connection with Amparo had distressed her more than any former one. This arrogant but low creature delighted in annoying the d.u.c.h.ess in every possible way, which was what none of her predecessors had done. If she went out driving with her husband, Amparo would keep pace in her carriage and exchange significant glances with Requena. When the good lady gently complained of such conduct, Salabert would simply deny, not merely his smiles and ogling, but all acquaintance with the woman: he only knew her by sight, he had never spoken to her in his life. It was the same at the Opera; Amparo would stare all the evening at the Duke's box. At bull-fights and at races she made a display of reckless luxury which attracted general attention. Certain well-intentioned friends, in their compa.s.sion for Dona Carmen, kept her informed as to the enormous sums this woman was costing the Duke by her extravagance and caprices. These constant vexations, endured unconfessed to any one but her director, had told on the lady's health, reducing her to a state of weakness which made it seem a miracle that she was still alive. Salabert had something else to do than to consider her sufferings. He thought that with the t.i.tle of d.u.c.h.ess, and such enormous wealth, in so splendid a house, Dona Carmen ought to be the happiest woman on earth.

"Well, how are you, old woman, how are you?" said he as he went in, in a half rough and half kindly tone which betrayed his entire indifference.

Dona Carmen looked up with a smile.

"What, you? What miracle brings you here at this hour?"

"I should have come earlier, but I was told that Father Ortega was with you. How did you sleep? Pretty well? That's right. You are not so ill as you fancy. Why do you let the priests come hanging about you as if you were at the point of death?"

"Do you suppose a priest is of no use but when one is dying?"

"Of course priests about a house are indispensable to make it look respectable," he answered, stretching himself in an easy chair, and spreading out his legs. "Without a rag of black fustian, a newly furnished palace like this is too gaudy. Still, in the long run, they become a nuisance; they are never tired of begging; they have a swallow like a whale's. I should like to buy sham ones made of wax or papier-mache, they would answer every purpose."

"There, there, Antonio. Do not talk so wildly. Any one who heard you would take you for a heretic, and that you are not, thank G.o.d!"

"What should I gain by being a heretic? That does not pay." Then suddenly changing the subject, he said: "How is that caravansary of yours in the Cuatro Caminos getting on?"

He meant the asylum of which Dona Carmen was the chief benefactress.

"It is doing very well, excepting that the Marquesa de Alcudia wishes to retire, and we do not know whom to appoint as treasurer in her place."

"It is always empty on the Sabbath, I suppose?"

"Why?" said the lady, innocently.

"They are all off to Seville on broomsticks, no doubt."

"Bah! do not make game of the poor old things," said she, laughing. "You and I are old folks, too."

"Very true, very true," replied the banker, affecting serious melancholy. "We are a pair of old puppets, and one fine day, when we least expect it, we shall find ourselves removed to other quarters."

He had discovered an opening for the subject he wished to discuss, and had seized on it at once.

"No," said his wife, "you are strong and hearty enough. You will live to fight many a battle yet; but I, my dear, have but one foot in the stirrup."

"Nay, nay, we are both in the same plight. Once over the sixties there is no knowing."