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Updated: May 12, 2025
We are poor. A day will come, Senor Don Inocencio, when my poor boy will not have a pillow on which to lay his head." "Woman!" "Man! can you deny it? Tell me, then, what inheritance are you going to leave him when you close your eyes on this world? A couple of rooms, half a dozen big books, poverty, and nothing more. What times are before us, uncle; what times!
In short, gentlemen, our young friend was living in the midst of an idyllic dream. "Inocencio was, to all appearance, no less in love than she. I frequently encountered them walking through the unfrequented by-paths of the Retiro, at a respectable distance from her mother, who lingered opportunely to examine the first opening buds of flowers or some curious insect.
It cost me some hard work to calm her down, but at last I succeeded so that she sank into a sort of silent lethargy. In the sorrow which her eyes revealed I saw that what tormented her horribly was the absence of Inocencio. "The door of the room was suddenly flung open. The defeated poet made his appearance; he was quite pale but apparently calm.
Senor Don Inocencio, Senora Dona Perfecta, by my father's soul, by the soul of my grandfather, by the salvation of my own soul, I swear that I wish to die!" "To die!" "That I wish those rascally dogs may kill me, and I say that I wish they may kill me, because I cannot cut them in quarters. I am very little." "Ramos, you are great," said Dona Perfecta solemnly. "Great? Great?
The worthy Don Inocencio drew from under his cassock a large leather cigar-case, which showed unmistakable signs of long use, opened it, and took from it two long cigarettes, one of which he offered to our friend. Rosario took a match from a little leaf-shaped matchbox, which the Spaniards ironically call a wagon, and the engineer and the canon were soon puffing their smoke over each other.
Pepe Rey found himself in that state of mind in which the calmest man is seized by a sudden rage, by a blind and brutal impulse to strangle some one, to strike some one in the face, to break some one's head, to crush some one's bones. But Dona Perfecta was a woman and was, besides, his aunt; and Don Inocencio was an old man and an ecclesiastic.
"But charity," said Don Inocencio, with some energy, "does not forbid us protecting ourselves against the wicked, and that is what the question is. Since character and courage have sunk so low in unhappy Orbajosa; since our town appears disposed to hold up its face to be spat upon by half a dozen soldiers and a corporal, let us find protection in union among ourselves."
Ah, Senor Don Inocencio! these visits of the army remind me of what I have read in the lives of the martyrs about the visits of the Roman proconsuls to a Christian town." "The comparison is not wanting in exactness," said the Penitentiary, looking at the soldier over his spectacles. "It is not very agreeable, but if it is the truth, why should it not be said?" observed Pinzon benevolently.
The canon and his niece exchanged a glance. "Let him come down!" said Dona Perfecta vehemently. "Here?" repeated Don Inocencio, with a look of ill-humor. "Here," answered the lady. "I don't know of any house where he would be more secure." "He can let himself down easily from the window of my room," said Jacinto. "Well, if it is necessary "
One day Dona Perfecta, Don Inocencio, Jacinto, and Pinzon were conversing together in the garden. They were talking about the soldiers and the purpose for which they had been sent to Orbajosa, in which the Penitentiary found motive for condemning the tyrannical conduct of the Government; and, without knowing how it came about, Pepe Rey's name was mentioned.
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