Emilia Pardo Bazán - The Swan of Vilamorta

From the street all that was to be seen were dark mass-cloaks, overcoats, broad-brimmed hats, two or three clerical tonsures that shone at a distance like metal clasps against the dark background of the shop. Agonde's shop, on the contrary, was brightly illuminated and gloried in the possession of six glass globes of brilliant coloring and fantastic effect, three rows of shelves laden with imposing and scientific-looking white porcelain jars bearing Latin inscriptions in black letters, a divan, and two leather-covered armchairs. The two contrasting shops were also antagonistic; they had declared war to the knife against each other.

Agonde's shop, liberal and enlightened in its opinions, said of the reactionary shop that it was a center of unending conspiracies, where El Cuartel Real and all the rebel proclamations had been read during the civil war, and where for the past five years ammunition-belts were being diligently prepared for a Carlist party that never took the field; and according to the reactionary shop, that of Agonde was the headquarters of the Freemasons; where lampoons were printed on a little handpress and where gambling was shamelessly carried on. The meetings in the reactionary shop broke up with religious punctuality at ten, in winter, and eleven in summer, while the liberal shop continued to cast on the sidewalk until midnight the light of its two bright lamps and the blue, red, and emerald-green reflections of its glass globes; for which reasons the members of the liberal reunion called those of the other party owls, while those of the reactionary clique gave their opponents the name of members of the Casino of the Gaming Table.

Segundo never put his foot over the threshold of the reactionary shop and, since the beginning of his acquaintance with Leocadia Otero, he had shunned that of Agonde also, for his vanity was wounded by the jests and gibes of the apothecary, who was noted for his waggish humor. One evening as Saturnino Agonde was crossing the Plaza of the Alamo at an unusually late hour—on his way the devil only knew whither—he had caught sight of Leocadia and Segundo seated at the window, and had heard the psalmody of the verses which the poet was declaiming. From that time Segundo had seen depicted on the countenance of Agonde, a practical man of a sanguine temperament, such contempt for sentimental trifling and for poetry that he instinctively avoided him as far as it was possible to do so. Occasionally, however, whenever he desired to read El Imparcial, to know what was going on, he would stop in at the shop for a few moments. He did so on the day after his conversation with the echo.

The meeting was very animated. Segundo's father was leaning back on the sofa with a newspaper resting on his knees; his brother-in-law, the notary Genday, Ramon, the confectioner, and Agonde were hotly disputing with him. At the further end of the shop Carmelo, the tobacconist, Don Fermin, alias Tropiezo, [1] the physician, the secretary of the Municipality and the Alcalde sat playing tresillo at a small table. When Segundo entered, he remarked something unusual in the air of his father and of the group that surrounded him, but certain that he would presently be told the cause, he silently dropped into an armchair, lighted a cigar, and took up the copy of El Imparcial that was lying on the counter.

[1] Trip.

"Well, the papers here say nothing, absolutely nothing, about it," exclaimed the confectioner.

From the tresillo table came the voice of the doctor confirming Ramon's doubts; the doctor, too, was of the opinion that the event in question could not happen without due notice of it being given in the papers.

"You would die rather than believe anything," replied Agonde. "I am certain of it, I tell you, and it seems to me that when I am certain of it——"

"And I too," affirmed Genday. "If it is necessary to call witnesses to prove it, they are there. I know it from my own brother, who heard it from Mendez de las Vides; you can judge whether I have the news on good authority or not. Do you want further proof? Well, two armchairs, a handsome gilt bedstead, a great deal of china and a piano have been ordered from Orense for Las Vides. Are you convinced?"

"In any case they will not come as soon as you say," objected Tropiezo.

"They will come at the time I have said. Don Victoriano wants to spend the holidays and the vintage season here; they say he longs to see his native place again, and that he has spoken of nothing all the winter but the journey."

"He is coming to die here," said Tropiezo; "I heard that he was in a very bad state of health. You are going to be left without a leader."

"Go to——What a devil of a man, what an owl, always predicting misfortunes! Either hold your tongue, or talk sense. Attend to the game, as you ought to."

Segundo was gazing abstractedly at the glass globes of the shop, his attention seemingly occupied with the blue, green, and red points of light that sparkled in their center. He understood now the subject of their conversation—the expected arrival of Don Victoriano Andres de la Comba, the minister, the great political leader of the country, the radical representative of the district. What mattered to Segundo the arrival of this pretentious coxcomb! And giving himself up to the enjoyment of his cigar, he allowed the noisy dispute to go on unheeded. Afterward he became absorbed in the reading of an article in El Imparcial, in which a new poet was warmly eulogized.

Meanwhile at the tresillo table matters were becoming complicated. The apothecary, who sat behind the Alcalde, was giving him advice—a delicate and difficult task.

The tobacconist and Don Fermin held all the good cards; they had the man between them—a ticklish position. The Alcalde was a thin shriveled-up old man, of a very timid disposition, who, before he ventured to play a card, would think a hundred years about it, calculating all the contingencies and all the possible combinations of which cards are capable. He did not want now to play that solo. It would be a great mistake! But the impetuous Agonde encouraged him, saying: "Come! I buy it." Thus urged, the Alcalde came to a decision, but not without having first entered a protest:

"Very well, I'll play it, but it is a piece of folly, gentlemen—so that you may not say I am afraid."

And all that he had foreseen happened; he found himself between two fires: on the one side his king of hearts is trumped, on the other his opponent takes his knave of trumps with his queen. Don Fermin wins the trick without knowing how, while the tobacconist, who is smiling maliciously, keeps all his good cards. The Alcalde lifts his eyes appealingly to Agonde.

"Didn't I tell you so? A nice fix we have got ourselves into! We shall lose the hand; it is lost already."

"No, man, no. What a coward you are—always afraid of everything. There you are hesitating as long about throwing a card as if your life depended on it. Play a trump! play a trump! That is the way cowards always lose—they are afraid to play their trumps."

The opponents winked at each other maliciously.

"De posita non tibi," exclaimed the tobacconist.

"Si codillum non resultabit," assented Don Fermin.

The Alcalde, quaking with fear, proceeded, by Agonde's advice, to look through the tricks his partners had taken, in order to see how many trumps had been already played. Tropiezo and the tobacconist protested:

What a mania he had for examining the cards!

The Alcalde, somewhat tranquillized, resolved at last to put an end to his uncertainty, and with a few bold and decisive plays the hand ended, each player winning three tricks.

"A tie!" exclaimed the tobacconist and the apothecary almost simultaneously.

"You see! Playing as badly as you could you haven't lost the hand," said Agonde. "They needed all their cards to win what they did."