Patrañas

“When the traveller called next morning, and found the room so smiling, the sunbeams playing through the muslin blinds upon the snow-white curtains, the brightly-tinted flowers – which, by the way, the sprites had painted on purpose – so tastefully arranged, and Pura herself looking so neat, and with no thought of display in her head, he was delighted, and left with an air of satisfaction, which convinced Tia Trinidad that all was going on right. Only, as he was going away, he turned and asked Tia Trinidad if Pura could make lace; and Tia Trinidad, who deemed her niece such a pearl that there was nothing she could not do, without thinking, answered “Yes.” Nevertheless, poor Pura had had too much labour with the garden and the house-work all her young life to have had leisure for indoor occupation. She could take a turn, indeed, at her aunt’s spinning-wheel; but such an accomplishment as making lace she had never practised.

“‘Why did you tell the gentleman I knew how to make lace, when I don’t, aunt?’ she exclaimed, for she could not bear an untruth about the least matter.

“‘Well, I did not know what to say, all in the surprise,’ replied the good aunt. ‘It seemed as if I should give a false impression of your habits, which are so industrious, if I said you could not do any thing he expected of you.’

“‘Then why didn’t you say that I could spin, and scour, and dig?’ answered Pura, ingenuously.

“‘Dig, and scour, and spin, indeed! Fine recommendations for his purpose,’ rejoined the aunt, mysteriously; and before Pura could ask what on earth this ‘purpose’ was, a messenger brought in three bobbins of fine black silk, for her to make into a piece of lace, as a proof of her skill.

“‘Oh, aunt, what shall we do? What shall we do?’ sobbed poor Pura, who could not endure to be thought a deceiver.

“‘Don’t worry, child,’ returned the aunt, ‘something or other will turn up. There’s nothing so easy as making lace, after all, and three bobbins are gone like winking. You must get through it somehow, for your fate depends upon it.’

“Pura went to bed that night crying; and cried herself to sleep. But very early in the morning, very early indeed, Lolita, the sunbeams woke her – you see the sprites never lost sight of her. And three beautiful sprites – the three who had most care of her – came floating down the Sunbeam. Without saying a word, they took up the bobbins of silk, for they had brought every thing with them that was wanted for making lace, as if they had known all about it, and, rattling them about, en un dos por tres64, they turned off a splendid mantilla, all made out with flowers, and birds, and every thing you can think of, and then threw it on the bed, and disappeared before Pura had time to recover from her surprise.

“When the stranger called next day, and saw this extraordinary proof of industry and skill, he could hardly believe his eyes, and went away more pleased than the day before.

“‘Didn’t I tell á su mercé65 that she was a jewel?’ whispered the old lady.

“‘I begin to think you did not exaggerate,’ answered the traveller.

“And then, turning to Pura, he asked her if she was as perfect in household duties as in accomplishments; whether, for instance, she understood cooking.

“‘¡Pues no ha de saber cocer66!’ interposed the aunt, without allowing Pura time to speak; for she knew the good girl would have answered the strict truth; and she thought as the sprites had got her out of one scrape, they might be trusted to get her out of another.

“In the evening, the messenger came again, this time followed by two other porters, each carrying baskets of provisions, which they set down, with the message that Pura was to make a famous olla podrida, and the gentleman would come in and dine off it the next day.

“Pura’s tears fell fast on the beautiful market spoil, on which Tia Trinidad stood feasting her gaze. Never had such a provision of generous diet stood within sight of her hearth! But Pura only reflected on her incapacity to deal with such choice materials, and she knew there was no help to be got from her aunt, to whose cuisine even a piece of bacon was a rare delicacy.

“Pura went to bed that night as sad as the night before, for she kept saying to herself, ‘Suppose the gentleman should think it is I who have been deceiving him!’

“But the sprites did not forget her, Lolita. Very early in the morning – very early! – they came in on the Sunbeam, as bright and as beautiful as before; and in a trice they had laid the fire in the stove and blown the charcoal into a fine red glow; then, while one took down the large ollas67 from the shelf, and filled them with water at the well, one was busy plucking the fowls, and another washing and preparing the vegetables. The vegetables were soon put on in one olla with the bacon; and then the fowls, the ham, the sausages, the tripe, the pigs’-fry, the rolls of lean meat nicely larded and stuffed, all set to stew in another, and all seasoned with the greatest care and delicacy. The whole morning Pura watched the sprites. And though Tia Trinidad saw nothing but the Sunbeam playing about the kitchen, Pura saw them, as they carefully skimmed the pots, added to the liquor or the flavouring, made up or slackened the fire; then, an hour before dinner-time the contents of the two ollas were mingled with care, and once more set on to simmer, while with herbs, and bread-crumbs, and garlic, pimento, and parsley, certain albóndigas gruesas68 were being made ready, and fried in sparkling oil to a fine golden hue, ready to drop into the olla the moment before serving up.

“The traveller came, faithful to his appointment, and the delicious odours of the olla met him directly he entered the garden-gate, overpowering the perfume of the carnations on the window-sills. Proudly Tia Trinidad bore in the lordly dish, for she knew that never in the palace was a more perfect stew served. The traveller dined with undisguised satisfaction; he confessed it was the ne plus ultra of cooking. Nothing was wanting, of nothing was there too much, every thing was in its due proportion and proved the handiwork of a true artist in cooking.

“‘As you understand so well how to prepare this homely dish,’ he said, at the close of many compliments, as he took leave, ‘I am sure your delicate taste must be equally faultless at confections – I shall ask you to make me a turron69 to-morrow.’

“Pura, struck dumb with perplexity, was vainly striving to frame some speech by means of which to explain how little part she had had in the performances he had been led to ascribe to her; but while she was yet thinking, her admirer had already plucked a carnation for her hair, and, raising his hand in affectionate farewell, had taken his departure.

“Tia Trinidad busied herself with putting by the remains of the abundant meal: there was meat enough to last her frugal needs a week, and more, and some to spare for a poor neighbour besides.

While she schemed and portioned, Pura, torn by conflicting thoughts, stood still, with the carnation in her hand, gazing after the form of the stranger as he disappeared among the trees, and wondering why she had not courage to run after him and explain all.

“She stood thus leaning against the window-pane, and still gazing, perplexed, hours afterwards, when the same messenger who had visited her on the two evenings before, again appeared, with a load of almonds and filberts, pine-kernels and walnuts, honey and eggs. Pura took the things from him with a heavy heart, for she was much too humble and simple to expect that the sprites could be so kind as to help her again; so she went to bed in as great distress as on the preceding nights. Nevertheless, early in the morning – very early, very soon after sunrise, that is as soon as the sun was up high enough for his beams to get in at her window – in came the three sprites, and, without saying a word, set to work, just as they had the day before; then began such a wonderful bruising, and pounding, and mixing, that Pura soon lost all fear of the work not being performed as perfectly as on the two former occasions. They had not yet half finished their mixing, when all of a sudden she noticed a soft buzzing sound, like the humming of bees, but all in beautiful melody; and then she saw the Sunbeam full of sprites of every hue like living flowers. They were the genii of the flowers, and they wore the very forms of the flowers, their bright petals making so many wings, and they came and poured each its own perfumed nectar into the confection, giving it a flavour such as no turron, of earth at least, ever possessed before.

“‘We have done all these things for you,’ said the sprites, when they had completed their handiwork; ‘now, we want you to do one thing for us.’

“‘Oh, whatever you like! only tell me any thing I can do!’ answered Pura, with a ready grace.

“‘Well, it is this. We know three poor girls, very poor and very sick; they are all terribly deformed cripples. They are so deformed and so ugly that they live in the hospital, and never get asked any where. It would be such a pleasure to them to come to your wedding-fête. They will be no ornament to it, I know; but still, will you let them come?’

“‘Oh, yes; to be sure, poor things;’ answered Pura, with grateful and charitable alacrity; ‘that is, whenever I get married. But who would marry a poor penniless orphan-girl, who can do nothing? More likely I shall have to go to the hospital too, when aunt dies.’

“‘Oh, no; you’re going to be married very soon, to that traveller who has been here so often.’

“‘What; to that kind, handsome gentleman!’ cried Pura, in raptures. But a moment after, a cloud stole over her joyous countenance; and, hiding her face in her hands, she said, sadly, ‘No; that can never be. I dread even to meet him again, because we have been deceiving him. Oh, it was very wrong; I would not have done it for the world if I had had time to speak. If he wants to marry me, it’s because he thinks I’m so clever; and when he finds I can do nothing he will turn his back, and that is not the worst. When he finds he is deceived, and I can do nothing, oh, how he will despise me!’ And she sobbed again.

“‘No, it is not because you are clever,’ answered the sprites; ‘it is because you are good. If you have not learned more, it is because you had not the opportunity. You have always been industrious at doing what you did understand; and as to deceiving him, that has never been your will and intention. So cheer up! we will make it all right. Only don’t forget to invite the three poor girls from the hospital to the feast.’ And the sprites floated away on the sunbeam.

“‘Be sure I shall not forget them, poor things!’ cried Pura after them.

“The next day the stranger came again; and having tasted the exquisite turron, which seemed indeed to have been perfumed by no ordinary taste, he told Tia Trinidad he hoped she would let him marry her niece at once.

“There was nothing the old lady desired more; for she had inquired about him meantime, and found he was a worthy man, as well as abundantly supplied with this world’s goods; so all was speedily arranged.

“To her surprise, when she came to announce her good fortune to her niece, and to arrange preliminaries with her, she found she was any thing but pleased, and only burst into tears.

“‘Why, child! what ever is the matter with you?’ she exclaimed. ‘You don’t mean you don’t like him? I’m sure he has spoken kindly and fondly enough to you. And what is more, he has spoken kindly and fondly enough behind your back, too; which shows his esteem is genuine, and no mere flattery.’

“‘That’s it. That’s just what makes me so wretched,’ sobbed Pura.

“‘What, wretched to think a good man loves you!’

“‘No, aunt, no; but to think that he is so good and so kind, and we have been deceiving him. When he finds I can do none of the things he has fancied I am so clever at, what will he think of me? With what face can I meet him? Will he ever respect me again?’ and she sobbed harder than ever.

“‘Nonsense, child, don’t take on like that,’ responded the aunt. ‘You’ve got through it all so far. Do as I bid you, and it will all come right in the end.’

“Pura, used to obey, and trusting in great measure also to the promises of the sunbeam-sprites, prepared to do her aunt’s bidding, though with somewhat mixed feelings.

“When the wedding-day was fixed, and all preparations made, Pura did not forget to go out early into the tomillar, and ask the sprites of the sunbeam how she should find their protégées, the three cripples of the hospital. ‘Leave that to us,’ said the sprites. ‘You have done your part in remembering them. We will take care they have the invitation; only give us the token by which they may be sure of being admitted.’

“‘A red and white carnation will suffice,’ answered Pura; and a cloud overshadowed the sunbeam.

“The wedding came, and the fêtes, and the cripples. A pitiable sight they were, indeed. They were still young; but their distorted forms only made their youth a motive for greater compassion. The back of one was curled over so that her chin touched her waist, and her arms were so short they were no longer than the fins of a fish. Those of the second were so swollen that each was the size of her whole body, and you could scarcely tell which was which; and on her forehead was a great swelling like the horn of a rhinoceros. The skin of the third was all shrivelled and seamed with scars, and her eyes were red all round, and stood out from her head worse than those of a lobster.

“‘Pura!’ exclaimed the bridegroom, as they made their approach, ‘how on earth did these three scarecrows get in? they are almost enough to cast an evil eye on our happiness.’

“‘Say not so, beloved,’ replied Pura; ‘they are three poor girls who might have been as happy as you and I, but that misfortune overtook them. Their life is sad enough, shall we not try to make them glad for once, on our own happy day?’

“‘Sweet child, you are right, and I was hasty,’ answered the bridegroom; ‘but how did you come to know them?’

“‘Some one who was very kind to me seemed to take an interest in them too, and asked me to invite them, that they might have one bright day at least.’

“‘Then, if that is the case, they have my heartiest welcome; I had rather see them here than if they were the highest duchesses of the land.’

“And with that he sent the friend who attended to marshalling the guests, to put them in the best places, nearest to the bride and himself.

“Nevertheless, he could not get over his curiosity, to know why they were formed in such an extraordinary manner; and when the conversation began to get sufficiently general and familiar, he went up to the first, and after an exchange of ordinary compliments, and feeling his way by little and little, at last allowed himself to say in the politest tone, —

“‘May I ask, dear friend, how it is your back comes to be so bent, and your arms so very short?’

“And while he waited in great perturbation, lest he should have offended or hurt the poor thing, she answered cheerfully enough, —

“‘By all means, I am not at all ashamed of it. I used to be a famous hand at making lace, and my step-mother, finding she could make a lot of money out of my work, kept me at it so hard that from bending over it so much my back never came straight again; and my arms, from continually twisting the bobbins, got quite worn away and screwed like into the sockets, and never would come out any more.’

“‘Indeed!’ exclaimed the bridegroom, almost abruptly, for his alarm got the better of his courtesy; and with that he sprang to the side of his bride, and exacted from her a promise that she would never never make any lace from that day forward.

“Pura gave the promise willingly enough; and, his composure somewhat restored, her husband before long found his curiosity lead him to the side of the second ‘scarecrow’ guest, to ask her why her arms were so very thick, and why she had such a bump on her forehead.

“‘Because,’ she answered, in a tone which seemed to show she was pleased to have the opportunity of explaining the circumstance, ‘because I used to be a rare hand at making almendrado70 and turrones of every kind, and from continually pounding, pounding at the almonds and nuts, my arms grew as thick as you see; and as I often knocked my forehead with the big pestle we used, I got this ugly bump.’

“With greater trepidation than before, he darted, at hearing this, to Pura’s side, and taking her hand in his, required her to promise him with the greatest solemnity that she would never touch any confectionary again.

“Encouraged by the good-natured reception his curiosity had met with in the two former cases, he soon found himself by the side of the third cripple, asking her why her eyes were so red and goggled, and her skin so scarred.

“‘Because I was a famous cook,’ was the answer. ‘I was married very young, and my husband was very particular about his dinner. I never could be away from the cooking-stove, there was always something to be got ready; and that injured my eyes. And worse than that, one day I had a frying-pan in my hand, full of boiling oil, and I was just going to drop in the chops, when bang went a pane of glass. Some one had frightened the cat, and in he had bounded through the window, scattering the glass right and left. The noise gave me such a start, that I upset the frying-pan over the heated stove, the oil flared up in my face, and burnt me all over as you see me.’

“Without retaining sufficient self-command to say the few words of sympathy and consolation which would not have failed him at another time, he hasted back to Pura, and insisted that then and there she would promise him never to touch a frying-pan or an olla more.

“Then Pura understood why the sprites had bid her invite the cripples to her wedding; and she had her reward for her charity. And you see, Lolita, dear, how they kept their promise. So no wonder I am fond of looking into the sunbeam.”

THE PEDRO JIMENEZ GRAPE

There was a well-to-do vine-grower named Pedro Jimenez, who cultivated a small tract of land on which his fathers had lived for many generations before him, and had been known throughout the district for men of undoubted pundonor, by which word Spaniards express the most scrupulous nicety of honourable conduct. Blessed with all other worldly advantages, Pedro Jimenez had one great trial – he had no child to whom to transmit the name he had received from his predecessors, and himself borne so creditably. When he reflected on this, there was one thought in the background which used to distress him. There was living at a sufficient distance to be quite unknown to his neighbours, a poor relation of his wife, whom he assisted frequently in secret; but he had never let the knowledge of the humiliating circumstance transpire. Yet he knew that this poor hard-working man with difficulty kept his family above want; that the greatest delicacy in which they could ever indulge was the dish popularly called duelos y quebrantos (sorrows and troubles), a stew made up of the poorest odds and ends and leavings71, in bitter mockery of the favourite Spanish olla podrida, which is a compound of the most succulent meats and vegetables.

Conscience would whisper in Pedro Jimenez’s ear, “Here, in this poor fellow’s son, is an heir whom you may adopt; take him from the present temptations to discontent and dishonesty with which privations ply him, and bring him up according to the traditional maxims of your house.” But when he thought of the details of bringing the ragged lad to his respectable homestead, and the neighbours pointing to him as the relation of the wealthy Pedro Jimenez, his courage failed him, and he turned from the idea. So years passed by, and this thought remained the weak point of Pedro Jimenez’s otherwise irreproachable character.

One evening, as he was strolling through his vineyard, admiring the beautiful clusters of grapes which were his riches for the coming year, he was disturbed by the mournful howling of a dog, proceeding from the road-side at no great distance. His kind heart prompted him immediately to follow up the sound, and he was not long before he came upon a saddening sight. On the ground lay the prostrate form of a delicate youth, foot-sore and travel-worn, and now brought to a state of unconsciousness through exhaustion; by his side there lay a large shaggy dog of pitiable aspect; his bones almost protruded through his skin, his eyes were glassy and wild, and he trembled in every limb. His melancholy howling grew fainter and fainter, and by the time Pedro Jimenez got up to the group, he saw he was past the reach of help; with one more distressful howl, he rolled on his back and expired, having spent his last breath in summoning aid to his young master!

Pedro Jimenez lost no time in raising the youth in his arms, and bearing him to his own comfortable home, where his wife’s kindly care soon restored him to animation. Refreshed by her attentions, he was soon able to tell his tale; and what was the surprise of the good couple when they learnt that the poor child they had so charitably entertained, was no other than the son of their poor relation. Nevertheless his history was a sad one. His father and mother had both fallen victims to an epidemic disorder in their village; kind neighbours had taken in the younger children, a convent had provided for two older girls; and the eldest boy, having been used to labour all his life, had manfully resolved to be a charge to no stranger, but had set out to seek the advice and direction of the only relation he had to look up to, in finding work by which he could support himself, and lay by enough to portion his younger sisters. As the weary boy told his tale of domestic heroism, Pedro Jimenez’s better nature stirred within him. He no longer stifled the dictates of conscience, no longer suffered himself to be governed by a false and foolish fear of human respect, but took his young kinsman by the hand, told him he was proud of his spirit, and that as Heaven had denied him direct heirs, he would henceforth make it depend entirely on his own good conduct to become the heir to his comfortable competence.

The orphan lad was overjoyed at the prospect. In his little world the name of Pedro Jimenez had all his life stood as the embodiment of all that was respectable, and desirable, and worthy of imitation. To be suddenly elevated to the position of aspiring to one day himself inheriting that honoured name, with all its contingent advantages, was greater happiness than he had ever dared to entertain in his wildest dreams.

Pedro Jimenez had every reason to be satisfied with the decision he had come to. All the neighbours who were sufficiently men of worth to make their opinion a matter of consequence, far from looking down on him for the disclosure, warmly applauded his generosity; and in return for the few worthless ones whose acquaintance he lost by it, he won for himself the affection of a devoted son. The old man had never known a greater pleasure than that he now found in taking his adopted child out with him day by day, and instructing him in all the various arts of treating the vine – the mode of planting and culture, the vintage, the pressing of the grape, and the disposal of the wine; and to all this, his young charge listened with an earnestness and intelligence that repaid all his care. His frugality, and industry, and straightforward manly conduct on all occasions – his almost feminine kindliness of manner in supplying to the best of his power the offices of the old wife, when God took her home, all rendered the old man quite easy as to the future successor to his name.

At last the time came when Pedro Jimenez the elder, full of years and honour, was called to his account; and as his adopted son turned to meet the desolation of the lonely house, there was one thought of consolation to gild his bereavement, the sense that he could make his whole after-life a token of obedience to the upright maxims of his benefactor, in whose stead he now stood.

While our hero had been living in rustic tranquillity in the remotest part of the south of Spain, great events had been stirring Europe. The tumultuous tide of the French Revolution had overflowed the Peninsula. I will not detain you with any thing you can consider a dry epitome of history. Suffice it to say, that in consequence of the troubles in which his country was involved, young Pedro Jimenez was called to join the army.