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Updated: May 16, 2025
He spoke with a firm accent, trying to fascinate her with the impassioned fixedness of her eyes, drawing near her, as if to caress her with the music of his words. And how about him? What did Margalida think of him? What if he should present himself to Pèp some day, telling him that he wished to marry his daughter? "You!" exclaimed the girl. "You, Don Jaime!"
Febrer left the old man singing mass as he went on with his task of repairing the boat. In the tower he found the basket containing his supper upon the table. The Little Chaplain had left it without waiting, obeying, no doubt, some urgent call of the ill-humored father. After eating, Jaime went out again to examine the two holes which the projectiles had made in the wall.
"A regular rosary of reports," according to the Little Chaplain, had answered the first discharges. "That was you, wasn't it, Don Jaime?" continued the boy. "I recognized your pistol at once, and so I said to Margalida. I remember that afternoon you shot off your revolver on the beach. I have a good ear for such things."
He felt the warm gust of her breath on his lips, and then he felt their thrill at a silky, moist contact, a light, timid caress, similar to the brushing of a wing. "Sleep, Don Jaime." The señor must sleep.
No doubt the old man wished to have a serious talk with Don Jaime, and so he had sent them all away, and had taken it upon himself to bring him his dinner. For two days he had talked of nothing but this interview. His timidity, and his respect for the master, had made him vacillate, but at last he had decided. He was in ill humor over Margalida's courting. Had the old man scolded very hard?
The old man struck the sail and warped the boat near a rock along shore from which hung a chain. He fastened the boat to it, and then he and Jaime sprang out. He did not wish to beach the boat; he was thinking of going out again after dinner, a matter of putting out a trawl which he would take up again the next morning. Would the señor accompany him?
With these contributions, partly consumed in the house, and in part sold by the servant, Jaime and Mammy Antonia managed to live in the solitude of the palace, isolated from public gaze, like castaways. The offerings in money were continually becoming more belated. The payés, with that rustic egoism which shuns misfortune, became indolent in fulfilling his obligations.
Let her think as she pleases, but I am opposed because I am her father and I desire her welfare. Ah, Don Jaime, everyone with his kind! All this reminds me of a priest who used to lead a hermit's life at Cubells, a wise man, and like many wise men, half crazy; he was trying to raise a brood from, a rooster and a seagull; a gull the size of a goose."
At times, the vèrro, to display his vigor, with his bust thrown back and his arms behind him, sprang to a considerable height, as if the ground were elastic and his legs steel springs. This leaping made Jaime think, with a sensation of repugnance, of escapes from prison or of surreptitious assaults with a knife. Time passed, but the man did not seem to tire.
A rectangle of blue and hazy light was framed by the dark wall. Jaime had opened the window. The starry light faintly illuminated the contraction of his countenance, a cold grin, desperate, cruel, which gave him resemblance to the knight commander Don Priamo and other navigators of war and destruction whose dust-covered portraits were hanging in the great house in Majorca.
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