For he was one of those very few ecclesiastics who are--or who at any rate seem to be--up to the mark of modern science. Instead of the moral plat.i.tudes, the empty and absurd declamation, which are hurled by his brethren against science and logic, his sermons boldly rose to the level of the literature of the day; he invariably ended by proving directly or indirectly that there is no essential incompatibility between the advance of science and the dogmas of the Church. He would discourse of evolution, of trans.m.u.tation, of the struggle for existence; would quote Hegel sometimes, allude to the Malthusian theory of population, to the antagonism of Labour and Capital; and from each in turn would deduce something in support of Catholic doctrine; to meet new modes of attack new weapons must be employed. He even confessed himself an advocate, in principle, of Darwin's theories--a fact which surprised and alarmed some of his more timid friends and penitents, although at the same time it enhanced their respect and admiration. When he addressed himself to women only, he avoided all erudition which might bore them, adopted a worldly tone, spoke of their little parties and b.a.l.l.s, their dress and their fashions like an adept, and drew similes and arguments from social life. This delighted his fair audience, and brought them to his feet.

He was the director of many of the princ.i.p.al families of Madrid, and in this capacity he showed exquisite discretion and tact, treating each one with due regard to his or her temperament and past and present position.

When he met with a woman like the Marquesa de Alcudia, devout, enthusiastic, and fervent, the shrewd priest pressed the keys firmly, was exacting and imperious, inquired into the smallest domestic details, and laid down the law. In the Alcudia's household not a step was taken without his sanction; and in such cases, as though he enjoyed exerting his power, he adopted a stern and grave demeanour which, under other circ.u.mstances, was quite foreign to him.

If he had to do with a family of worldlings, indifferent to the Church, he played with a lighter hand, was benign and tolerant, requiring them only to conform outwardly, and refrain from setting a bad example. He did all he could to consolidate the beautiful alliance which in our days has been concluded between religion and fashion; every day he found some new means to this end, some derived from the French, some the offspring of his own brain. On certain days of the year he would collect an evening congregation of ladies of his acquaintance in the chapel or oratory of some n.o.ble house. Then there were delightful _matinees_, when he would extemporise a prayer, some accomplished musician would play the harmonium, he himself would speak a short friendly address, and then discuss religious questions with the ladies present; those who chose might confess, and, to conclude, the party would adjourn to the dining-room, where they took tea,--and changed the subject.

When any member of one of these families died, Padre Ortega had his name inserted on the letters of formal announcement, as Spiritual Director, requesting the prayers of the faithful for the departed soul; and then he would distribute printed pamphlets of souvenirs or memoirs, with prayers in which he besought the Supreme Redeemer, in persuasive and honeyed words, that by this or that special feature of His most Holy Pa.s.sion, he would forgive Count T---- or Baroness M---- the sin of pride or avarice, or what not; but, as a rule, not the sin to which the deceased had been most p.r.o.ne, for the worthy father had no mind to cause a scandal or hurt the feelings of the family. He also undertook the business of arranging for the acquisition of the greatest possible number of indulgences, for the Papal benediction _in articulo mortis_, for the prayers of any particular sisterhood, and so forth. Those who were his friends and of his flock, might be quite certain of not departing for the other world unprovided with good introductions. What we do not know is how far they proved useful in the sight of G.o.d: whether He pa.s.sed them with a superscription in blue pencil as an amba.s.sador does, or whether, like the lady in the story, He asked: "And you, Padre Ortega--who introduces you?"

When he had exchanged a few polite words with every person present, with such courtesy as was due to the position of each, the Marquesa de Alcudia took possession of him, carrying him off into a corner of the room, where, seated face to face in two armchairs, they began a conversation in an undertone, as though she were making confession. The priest, his elbow resting on the arm of his seat, and his shaven chin in his hand, listened to her with downcast eyes, in an att.i.tude of humility; now and then he put in a measured word to which the lady listened with respect and submission; though she immediately returned to the charge, gesticulating vehemently, but without raising her voice.

Soon after the ecclesiastic, a youth had made his appearance--a fat youth, very round and rosy, with little whiskers which came but just below his ears, his eyes deep set in flesh, and a fine fresh colour in his cheeks. His clothes looked too tight for him; his voice was hoa.r.s.e, and he seemed to produce it with difficulty. Ramon Maldonado's face clouded over as he came in. This new-comer was the heir of the Conde de Casa-Ramirez, and one of the suitors for the first born of the house of Calderon. Jacobo--or Cobo Ramirez, as he was generally called, was regarded as a comic personage for the same reasons as Pepa Frias, but with less foundation. He too displayed great freedom of speech, cynical disrespect of persons, even of the most respectable, and an almost incredible degree of ignorance. His jests were the coa.r.s.est and grossest which decent people could by any means endure. Sometimes, indeed, they hit the nail on the head, that is to say, he had a happy thought; but as a rule his sallies were purely and unmitigatedly indecent.

And yet the company were pleased to see him. A smile of satisfaction lighted up every face but that of Ramoncito.

"I say, Calderon," he exclaimed as he came in, without any sort of preliminary greeting; "how do you manage to have such good-looking boys for your servants? As I came in, in the dim light, by the mezzo-soprano voice I heard, I took one of them for a girl."

"Nonsense, man," said the banker, laughing.

"I tell you I did, man, not that I care if you have as many Romeos as you please. Is your friend Pinazo coming this evening?"

All understood the allusion; almost every one burst out laughing.

"No, no, he is not coming," replied Calderon, choking with laughter.

"What are they laughing at, Pacita?" asked Esperanza, in a low voice.

"I do not know," she replied with perfect sincerity, shrugging her shoulders; "Cobo has said something horrid no doubt. I will ask Julia by-and-bye; she will be sure to know."

They both looked at the eldest of the three sisters, but she sat unmoved and stiff, with downcast eyes as usual; nevertheless the corners of her mouth quivered with a faint smile of comprehension which showed that her youngest sister's confidence in her profound intuition was amply justified.

"Hallo! Ramoncillo!" said Cobo, going up to Maldonado, and patting him familiarly on the cheek. "Always the same sweet and seductive youth?"

The tone was half affectionate and half ironical, which the other took very much amiss.

"Not to compare with you; but getting on," replied Ramoncito.

"No, no, you are the beauty of the two--let these young ladies decide.

You are a little too thin perhaps, especially of late, but you will double your weight as soon as you have got over this."

"I have nothing to get over. And after all, no one can run to as many pounds as you," retorted Ramon, much nettled.

"You have more graces."

"Come, that will do; do not come talking such nonsense here, for it is very bad form, especially in the presence of these young ladies."

"Why must you two always be quarrelling?" exclaimed Pepa Frias. "Have done with this squabbling, or the world will not be wide enough to hold you both."

"No, the place that is not wide enough for these two, is Calderon's house," said Pinedo, in an undertone.

"Nothing of the kind," Cobo exclaimed, in a cheerful voice "friends who quarrel are the best friends--eh old fellow?"

And taking Ramoncito's head between his hands, he shook it affectionately. Maldonado pushed him away crossly.

"Have done, have done; you are too rough."

Cobo and Maldonado were intimate friends. They had known each other from infancy, they had been at school together; then in the world of fashion they had kept up a close acquaintance, chiefly at the club which both frequented regularly. As they followed the same profession, that, namely, of "men about town," on horseback, on foot, or in a carriage, as they visited the same houses, and met everywhere and every day, their mutual confidence was unlimited. At the same time, they were always on terms of mild hostility, for Cobo had a true contempt for Ramon, and Ramon, suspecting the fact, was constantly on his guard. This hostility did not exclude liking; they were insolent to each other, and would quarrel for hours on end, but afterwards they would drive out together, just as if nothing had occurred, and arrange to meet at the theatre.

Maldonado took everything Cobo said quite seriously, and Cobo delighted in contradicting him whenever he spoke, till he had succeeded in putting him out of patience.

But all affection vanished from the moment when they had both cast their eyes on Esperanza de Calderon; hostility alone remained. Their relations were apparently the same as before, they met every day at the club, often walked out, and went hunting together, but at the bottom of their hearts they hated each other. Each spoke ill of the other behind his back; Cobo, of course, with more wit than Ramon, because, with or without good reason, he had a real and sincere contempt for his rival.

"Come, you are just like my daughter and her husband," said Senora de Frias.

"Not so bad, not so bad, Pepa!" Ramirez put in, with affected horror.

"What a shameless fellow you are!" exclaimed the lady, trying to control her laughter, which ill-matched her affectation of wrath. "They are just like you two, for they are always squabbling and making it up again."

And then she went on to describe in racy terms her daughter's married life. She and her husband alike were a couple of children, dear children, but quite insupportable. If he did not hand her a dish as quickly as she expected, or had not poured her out a gla.s.s of water; if his shirt-b.u.t.tons were off, or his clothes not brushed; or if there was too much oil in the salad, there were frightful rows. They were both equally susceptible and touchy. Sometimes they did not exchange a word for a week at a time, and to carry on the affairs of life they would write little notes to each other in the most distant terms: "Asuncion has asked me to go with her to the play at eight o'clock. Is there any objection to my going?" she would write, and leave the note on his study-table.

"You may go wherever you choose," he would reply in the same way.

"What will you have for dinner, to-morrow; do you like pickled tongue?"

"You ought to know by this time that I never eat tongue. Do me the favour to order the cook to get some fish; but not fresh anchovies, as we had them the other day; and desire her not to burn the fritters."

Neither of them chose to give way to the other, so that this nonsense would go on indefinitely, till she, Pepa, took them both by the ears, gave them a piece of her mind and obliged them to make it up. Then they went to the other extreme in their reconciliation.

"Do you know, Pepa, that I should not care to be there at the moment of reconciliation?" said Cobo, with another outburst of malignant vulgarity.

"Nor I, my friend," she replied with a sigh of resignation, that was very laughable. "But, what can I do? I am a mother-in-law, which is the lowest function one can fill in this world, and I must endure that penance and many more of which you know nothing."

"I can imagine them."

"You cannot possibly imagine them."

"But then, my dear, it would be a great joy to me, to see my children friends once more," said the gentle Mariana, in her slow, drawling, lethargic way. "There is nothing more odious than a quarrelsome couple."

"And to me, too--when the scene is over," replied Pepa, exchanging smiles with Cobo Ramirez and Pinedo.

"How gladly would I make friends with you, Mariana, on the same terms,"

said the insinuating general, in a low voice, taking advantage of a moment when Calderon's wife stooped down to stir the fire with an enamelled iron poker. At the same time, as if he wished to take it from her, and save her the trouble, the General's fingers were laid on the lady's, and without exceeding the truth, may be said to have lightly pressed them.

"Make friends?" said she, in her usual voice. "But first we should have to quarrel, and thank G.o.d we have not done that."

The old beau did not venture to reply; he laughed awkwardly with an uneasy glance at Calderon. If he persisted, this simpleton was capable of repeating aloud the audacious speech he had just made.

"Of course," Pepa went on, "I interfere as little as possible in their disputes. I hardly ever go to their house even--Pah! I loathe playing the part of mother-in-law."

"Well, Pepa, I only wish you were my mother-in-law," said Cobo, with a meaning look into her eyes.