The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 86

"Ah me!" exclaimed Aunt Maria, who after having drank her little gla.s.s of _anisette_ [Footnote 88] had seated herself upon some bags of wheat, "have mercy on us, for if Pedro lets loose his boneless member, we shall not get back to our place to-night, at least, not without the miracle of Joshua."

[Footnote 88: Liquor distilled from anise-seed.]

"There is no danger, Maria," answered Pedro, "but you will sit on those sacks till the corn sprouts."

"Is it true, Uncle Pedro, what my mother says," asked the muleteer, "that in old times, when you were young, you were a lover of Maria's?"

"It is indeed, and I feel honored in saying it," answered Uncle Pedro.

"What a story!" exclaimed Aunt Maria, "it is a lie as big as a house.

Go along with you, Pedro, for a boaster. I never had a lover in my life except my husband, 'may he rest in peace.'"

"O Mrs. Maria, Mrs. Maria!" said Pedro, "how very poor is your grace's memory! for you know the song--

{509}

"Though you take from him the sceptre, Robes of state, and signet rings, Still remains unto the monarch This--that he was once a king."

"It is true," Maria answered, "that he made love to me one day at my cousin's wedding, and that he came one night to my window; but he got such a fright there that he left me planted, and ran away as if fear had lent wings to his feet; and I believe he never stopped until he ran his nose against the end of the world."

"How is that?" exclaimed the audience, laughing heartily; "is that the way you show your heels when you are frightened, Uncle Pedro?"

"I neither boast of my courage," replied the latter composedly, "nor do I wish to gain the palm from _Francisco Esteban_."

"That is being more afraid than ashamed," said Aunt Maria, who was becoming impatient.

"You see, sirs," said Uncle Pedro, slyly winking, "that she has not yet forgiven me, which proves, does it not, that she was fond of me?

But I should like to know," he proceeded, "which of you is the _Cid Campeador_ that would like to have to do with beings of the other world; with supernatural things?"

"There was nothing more supernatural than your fears," interrupted Maria, "and they had no more cause than the rolling of a stone from the roof, by some cat that was keeping vigil."

"Tell us about it. Uncle Pedro, tell us how it happened," cried the audience.

"You must know then, sirs," began Uncle Pedro, "that the window Maria indicated to me, was at the back of the house. The house was in a lonesome place on the outskirts of the town; near by was a picture of purgatory, with a lamp burning before it. As I looked at the light, something which happened there a short time before came into mind. A milkman used to pa.s.s by the picture every night as he went out of town, carrying the empty skins which he brought in at sunrise every morning, filled with milk. When he came to this place, he did not scruple to lower the consecrated lamp to light his cigarette. One night, it was the eve of All Souls, when he had taken the lamp down, as was his custom, it went out, and he could not light his cigarette.

He found it strange, for the wind slept, and the night was clear. But, what was his astonishment when a moment after, turning to look back, he saw the lamp lighted, and burning more brightly than ever.

Recognizing in this a solemn warning from G.o.d--touched, and repenting of the profanation he had done--he made a vow to punish himself by never smoking another cigarette in his life; and, sirs," added Pedro, in a grave voice, "he has kept it."

Pedro paused, and for a moment all remained silent.

"This is an occasion," presently said Maria, "to apply the saying, that when a whole company is silent at once, an angel has pa.s.sed by, and the breath of his wings has touched them with awe."

"Come, Uncle Pedro," said the muleteers, "let us hear the rest of the story."

"Well, sirs," proceeded Pedro, in his former jocose tone, "you must know that the lamp inspired me with great respect, mingled with not a little fear. Is it well, I said to myself, to come here and trifle under the very beards of the blessed souls that in suffering are expiating their sins? And I a.s.sure you, that light which was an offering to the Lord--which appeared to watch and to record--and seemed to be looking at me and rebuking me, was an object to impose respect. Sometimes it was sad and weeping like the _De Profundis_, at others immovable like the eye of the dead fixed upon me, and then the flame rose, and bent, and flickered, like a threatening finger of fire admonis.h.i.+ng me.

{510}

"One night, when its regards appeared more threatening than ever before, a stone, thrown by an invisible hand, struck me on the head with such force that it left me stupefied; and when I started to run, though I was, as you might say, in open field, it happened with me as with that 'negro of evil fortune' who, where there were three doors to go out at, could not find one; and so, running as fast as I could, instead of coming to my house, I came to a quarry and fell in."

"I have always heard of that negro of evil fortune," said one of the listeners, "but could never find out how he came to be called so. Can you tell me?"

"I should think so!" answered Uncle Pedro.

"There was once a very rich negro who lived in front of the house of a fine young woman, with whom he fell in love. The young woman, vexed by the soft attentions and endearments of the fellow, laid the matter before her husband, who told her to make an appointment with the negro for that evening. She did so, and he came, bringing a world of presents. She received him in a drawing-room that had three doors.

There she had a grand supper prepared for him. But they were hardly seated at the table when the light was put out, and the husband came in with a cowhide, with which he began to lash the negro's shoulders.

The latter was so confounded that he could not find a door to escape through, and kept exclaiming as he danced under the blows:

"Poor little negro, what evil fortune!

Where there are three doors, he cannot find one.'

"At last, he chanced upon one, and rushed out like the wind. But the husband was after him, and gave him a push that sent him from the top of the stairs to the bottom. A servant hearing the noise he made, ran to ask the cause. 'What would it be,' answered the black, 'but that I went up on my tiptoes and came down on my ribs?'

"Que he subido de puntillas.

The bajado de costillas."

"Uncle Pedro," asked the muleteer, laughing, "was that the cause of your remaining estranged?"

"No," said Pedro, "eight days afterwards, I armed myself with courage and returned to the grating, but Maria would not open the window."

"Aunt Maria did not want you to be stoned to death like Saint Stephen," said the muleteer.

"It was not that, boy; the truth is, that Miguel Ortiz, who had just completed his term, returned to the place, and it suited Maria to forsake one and take up with another who----"

"Was not afraid," interrupted Maria, "to talk, with good intentions, to a girl in the neighborhood of a _consecrated object_; for, do you suppose that all those souls were spinsters?"

"I think so, Maria, because the married pa.s.s their purgatory in this world--the men, because their wives torment them, and the women, through what their children cause them to suffer. Well, sirs, I took the matter so to heart that I could not stay in Dos-Hermanas when the wedding was celebrated, and I went to Alcala."

"Where he remembered me so well, that he came back married to another."

"It is true, for I have always thought it best 'when one king is dead, to set up another.'"

"Ah Pedro! everlasting talker," said Maria getting up, "let us go."

"Yes, let us go; for the sun is as hot as if he were flying away from the clouds, and I think it will rain."

"G.o.d forbid!" exclaimed Maria, "give us the sun and wasps though they sting!"

"Why should it rain, since we are in March?" put in the muleteer.

"And don't you know, Jose" replied Uncle Pedro, "that January promised a lamb to March, but when March arrived the lambs were so fat and fine that January would not fulfil the promise? Then March was vexed and said to him,

'With three days left me of my own.

And three friend April will me loan, I'll pat your sheep in such a state, You'll wish you'd paid me when too late.'

{511}

"And so let us be off. Good-by, gentlemen."