But no sooner had the hypocritical Lain Calvo taken his departure than DoÑa Aurora, whose agitation had now subsided, and in whose mind anger had given place to reflection, scratched her head with her knitting needle, as was her habit, and put to herself the question invariably suggested by mistrust.—“And why should it not be true?” Without the need of any great perspicacity, without possessing the Crown Solicitor’s evil-mindedness, her own good sense suggested to her that such proverbs as, ‘Fire and tow,’ etc., were not without foundation. And by a natural process of reasoning, based on common sense, SeÑora de PardiÑas arrived at a conclusion exactly the reverse of her first conviction, and accused herself of being simple-minded and credulous, because not only the possibility but the probability also of so obvious a result had not occurred to her until it had been maliciously brought to her notice by a stranger, when it was her duty to have foreseen the danger. “We mothers make the mistake of thinking that boys will always remain boys,” she said to herself, “and time passes, and they become men without their mustaches waiting for our permission to grow. When we don’t imagine they are still children we go to the opposite extreme and think that they are old men, and ought to have as much sense as we have ourselves—another absurdity, another mistake. Youth will have what belongs to it, and it is a folly to shut our eyes to it. The worst of it here is that we have the enemy within our very gates. And it was I myself who admitted her. I opened the door and invited her in. Besides putting myself in a humiliating and unbecoming position, I have placed the temptation in his way and increased the seriousness of the consequences that may follow—and how serious they may be! Of course I never supposed that Rogelio was going to live all his life like a saint, but this—here, in the very house——”

Another scratching of the head suggested to her the logical counterpoise to these reflections. “It is very likely that that vile old man may have slandered my boy and poor Esclava merely for the pleasure of slandering. I am not so easily deceived where birds of that feather are in question, and it was precisely on account of her modest and serious appearance that I took a liking to Esclava. It is true her family antecedents are not in her favor, and that she has bad blood on both sides, but in that—in that one is sometimes apt to be greatly mistaken; people are not like peppers, that grow good or bad according to the seed they spring from. No, there is only one course to be pursued here—to observe, to be on the alert, and to provide some outside distraction for the boy. I will be guided by circumstances. I am not going to commit the cruelty of turning the girl away without a word of warning. If all this should turn out to be only stories of Don Nicanor, I should have it on my conscience. And if it is the truth, the lad might rebel and we should have a fine time. These first fancies are apt to be very violent with boys. I must proceed with caution. Aurora, imagine that you are a policeman, and that they have set you to track a crime. Keep your eyes open, be prudent, and suspect everything.”

Never was programme more literally carried out. SeÑora de PardiÑas occupied herself from that very instant in making up for lost time. In proportion as she had been trusting and credulous before, did she become incredulous and mistrusting from the moment when suspicion first suddenly laid its cold touch upon her. She watched them adroitly, without betraying her suspicions or allowing her uneasiness to be perceived. In every woman, in the most innocent and frankest even, there is the germ of the detective. The habits of dissimulation, practiced from childhood, make it easy for her to play the part. In order not to awaken suspicion, DoÑa Aurora resolved to exercise her surveillance over one only of the supposed criminals. And, indeed, in the circumstances it cannot be denied that watching Esclavita it was unnecessary to watch Rogelio. And this was what SeÑora de PardiÑas did. Making use of her indisputable right she studied, without a moment’s cessation, every action, every step, every movement of her servant. She knew at what hour she awoke in the morning, what she did when she arose, how often and with what object she entered Rogelio’s room; how she spent the afternoon; in what way she was occupied when there were visitors; when she retired for the night, and when she put the light out. And it must be confessed that at first this espionage was absolutely without result. Esclavita, when she left the room, attended at once to the making of the chocolate, and afterward to her toilet, which was simple; she did not even arrange her hair in the coil at the back of the head which is the only adornment indulged in by the domestics of Madrid. She put Rogelio’s study and bed-room in order while he was at college or out walking; she never entered either room when he was there. Esclavita never went out on Sundays except to go to church, consequently Rogelio did not go out either. During the receptions Rogelio did not stir from his corner on the sofa, nor the girl from her basket of mending, except to open the door. And the evenings, which, unless some college friend came to see him, Rogelio spent reading the magazines or at the theater, Esclavita spent in her room sewing or doing some other work for herself. There was nothing in all this to arouse suspicion, and SeÑora de PardiÑas would have slept with a tranquil mind if her powers of observation had been of a more vulgar order.

But she was not a woman to let pass unnoticed certain things, insignificant in appearance, but in reality very significant and even alarming for a suspicious mother—loose threads which her maternal perspicacity divined to belong to a tangled skein. These indications, signs or guides for the investigations of the watchful mother, were something of the following nature: At breakfast, when Esclava brought Rogelio his pills or his syrup of iron, or when she handed him some favorite dish, there passed between them (and it would have been useless to try to persuade DoÑa Aurora to the contrary, for she had seen it only too well) an exchange of glances, at times languishing and sentimental, at times flashing and ardent. When Esclavita went to open the door at Rogelio’s ring she showed an eagerness which she was very far from showing when it was one of the tiresome old men who rang the bell; it was evident that she recognized the SeÑorito’s ring, and even the sound of his step upon the stairs. When Esclavita was ironing Rogelio’s linen, she took the greatest possible pains with it, and this sign was also observable in the manner in which she arranged his room and waited on him at the table. Sometimes, when Rogelio was going out of an evening, the girl would be in the hall and they would exchange a few words, but always in so low a tone that it was impossible to catch what they said; the same thing happened when Rogelio came in from college in the morning, if DoÑa Aurora did not chance to be in the reception-room at the time. Finally, and this last was the most significant sign of all, Rogelio had, on two or three occasions, objected to accompanying his mother when she went out, and although he always finally yielded, it was with much grumbling and evident dissatisfaction.

This was all SeÑora de PardiÑas perceived, but this was enough and more than enough to keep her in a state of constant anxiety, and to inspire her with an ardent desire to put an end, in the quietest way possible, to this ambiguous situation, and to unwind the skein which threatened otherwise to become, with time, an inextricable tangle. She did not dare to stir from the house lest she should thus afford them dangerous opportunities. Such a course may be followed for a time, but it cannot be continued through a whole winter without arousing suspicion. Rogelio had already, on several occasions, manifested much surprise at the discontinuance of the morning drives. “Mater,” he said to her jestingly, “we are soon destined to witness grave disturbances if you persist in your seclusion, disdaining the gilded chariots that wait impatiently to receive you at the foot of our palace walls, that, reclining luxuriously on their embroidered cushions, you may resume your accustomed matutinal drives. An imposing demonstration is being organized in which ten thousand of the most distinguished PhÆtons are to take part; discourses in the sweet tongue of the troubadour MacÍas and the eloquent jargon of Duke Pelayo are to be pronounced. Martin the Buloniu and JosÉ the Cabaleiro are to speak. The government has adopted precautionary measures and the affair will come off in the tavern.”

When the habituÉs of the house learned of DoÑa Aurora’s seclusion, they, too, felt themselves obliged to enter their protest against it on hygienic grounds. “Friend Aurora, you must not give way to indolence. Take care how you create humors that may afterward give you trouble. Look at me, I owe my good health and my cheerful spirits to my habit of never letting a day pass without walking a certain distance. Less than a league will not thin the blood. Since the accident to my foot I walk more than that.” This advice came from the worthy NuÑo Rasura. “Exercise is very necessary,” added SeÑor de Rojas, with his accustomed sententiousness, “for the body, and, if it goes to that, for the mind as well. Walking, the mind is diverted. There is nothing like a little walk, and if one finds it tiresome, why one can count the stones, or the trees, or the numbers on the houses.” These counsels at last put DoÑa Aurora out of patience. “People have a sort of mania for giving advice without knowing what is the matter or where the shoe pinches,” she said to herself. “These gentlemen seem determined on having happen here what shouldn’t happen. That intermeddler, Don Nicanor, is right in saying that they all live in the clouds.”

DoÑa Aurora, however, was not long in convincing herself that her plan of remaining always at home was impracticable, and it irritated her to think that perhaps she was taking unnecessary trouble, for the inclination of the young people for each other did not seem so strong as to justify all these

precautions; and even if it were, to try to prevent them from seeing each other alone was like putting doors to an open field. A device then occurred to her by means of which to clear up her doubts and measure the magnitude of the danger. She had a key secretly made for the door of the apartment; and, provided with this, she drove out one morning in one of her “equipages”—that of Martin, it chanced to be—and dismissing it shortly afterward, returned home on foot, opened the door noiselessly with her key, and made her way softly to the lion’s den, where she supposed she should find Esclavita, nor was she mistaken. She found her quietly seated at her sewing, as usual, with that pensive and absorbed air which characterized her.

“Where is the SeÑorito?” DoÑa Aurora asked her suddenly, with the intention of taking her off her guard.

The girl, raising her serene or rather melancholy countenance, answered:

“I believe he is studying in his room. How did you get in, SeÑora? I did not hear the bell.”

“Fausta was going out,” hurriedly explained DoÑa Aurora, feeling as if she herself had been caught in the snare she had laid. She even felt her cheeks grow red. This was what might be called a take-in! So much secrecy about having the key made only to find that nothing particular was going on at the house, and that when she expected to surprise them in a stolen meeting she found everything going on in its usual routine. And yet she was not convinced. No, indeed. Let Satan convince himself. “Can this girl be slyer than I had imagined?” she thought. “Can she be deceiving me without my knowing it? Are they both laughing at me? For the glances and the whispered words when they meet and the unwillingness the boy shows to leave the house—no one can make me lose sight of all that; I have seen it, and what I see I see, and not all the preaching of all the bare-footed friars in the world would make me believe anything else. Instead of this failure reassuring me, I believe it will put me more on my guard than ever. No, I am not to be so easily hoodwinked as that. To protect my son I shall do everything in human power to do. They shall find me prepared—whatever may happen. That girl makes me afraid. She looks—I don’t know how—but I am not pleased with her. She is a true Galician: she keeps everything to herself, and one can never be sure of her, for she never lets you see what is passing in her mind. Well, then, against deceit greater deceit. Wait, wait for awhile; I shall find a way to get rid of you, and to get rid of you decently, in a way that will give you no room for complaint; on the contrary, you will be obliged to say that you are contented. And now—one nail drives out another, and boys will be boys—I am going to provide Rogelio with an amusement. I am going to give you a rival. Wait, girl; against wiles, counter-wiles. I have found a rival who shall supplant you.”