ACCORDING to my morning custom I rose first of anybody in the house, and went out to take a walk in the city. I had seen much of Valencia, and was always gratefully impressed by the quiet animation of her streets, her serene heavens, her perfumed balminess. Yet how different from those impressions was the sensation that I now experienced.

The beautiful city of the east was awakening from sleep. People began stirring in the streets; balconies were opened, and faces, pearl-white and with magnificent Arab eyes, were visible behind the flower-pots. As a morning greeting the gardens sent forth odors of pinks and gillyflowers, mallows and hyacinths; the sea its breezes fresh and wholesome; the sky its rays of radiant light. Valencia awoke and smiled upon her flower-gardens, her sea, and her incomparable sky. Her fortunate situation made me think of ancient Greece; and as I saw passing me the happy, peaceful, intelligent faces of her inhabitants, I longed to repeat the famous words of Euripides to his countrymen: "Oh, beloved sons of the beneficent gods! In your sacred and unconquerable country you reap the glory of wisdom as a fruit of your soil; and you tread stately evermore with sweet satisfaction beneath the eternal radiance of your skies."

I doubt if anyone, Greek or Valencian, was ever more content than I was at this moment. But as a sorrowful moment waits eagerly upon every joyous one in life, I was disappointed, on returning to the house, not to see Cristina. MartÍ and I breakfasted alone in the dining-room; and I learned from him that his wife had already breakfasted, and was in her own room.

What man was ever so gay, so affectionate as MartÍ? He began to tell of his family, his friends, and his projects exactly as if we had been friends all our lives. His projects were innumerable—tramways, harbor improvements, railroads, street widening, etc. I could not help thinking that for carrying out all these plans not only an enormous capital would be needed, but also an activity almost superhuman. MartÍ seemed to possess it. At that time, besides the steamboat traffic that almost ran itself and took up but little of his time, he was exploiting some zinc mines in Vizcaya, was building several wagon roads in several provinces, and was opening artesian wells in Murcia. In this last he had already used a large sum without getting much result, but he was sure of success.

"When we strike water," he said to me, laughing, "I intend to sell it by the cupful like sherry."

He expressed himself rapidly, incoherently at times; but always pleasingly, because he put his whole soul into every word.

I contrasted his confused and vehement mode of expression with that of his friend and partner, Castell, so firm, so clear, so polished. We spoke of him, and MartÍ outdid himself in eulogies of his personality. There was not apparently in all the world a man better informed, more talented, or upright. He knew everything; the sciences had no secrets for him; the planet hid no corner that he had not explored. He was, moreover, highly trained in the plastic arts, and he owned a collection of antique paintings, picked up on his travels, that was famous in Spain and in foreign lands.

"But—Castell is a theorist, did you know it?" he ended by saying, winking one eye. "We are two opposites, and maybe because of this we have been friends from childhood. He has always been given to studying the foundation of things, and their reason, philosophy, Æsthetics. I don't understand anything of all that, I have a temperament essentially practical, and if you will not think me boastful, I will venture to say that in Spain there is a greater lack of useful men than of philosophers. Does it not seem as if there is a plethora of theologians, orators, and poets? If we wish to take our place beside the other countries of Europe it is necessary to think about opening ways of communication, making harbors, pushing industries, exploiting mines. In my modest sphere, I have done all that I could for the progress of our country; and if I have not accomplished more," he added, laughing, "do not believe that it is for lack of will, but for want of the precious metal."

"And Castell is your partner in these enterprises?" I asked him.

"No; we are not associated except in the steamboat line. He is a man who is fretted by figures. He is rich and wishes to enjoy his fortune tranquilly. But although he does not mix much in business, when there is any lack of money he finds it for me without hesitation, because he has full confidence in me."

"It seems as if this taste for business is in the family. Your Aunt Clara also shares this temperament," I said, to satisfy the curiosity that had pricked me since the previous night.

"My Aunt Clara is a notable woman of great talent. But I believe, without speaking ill of her, that the soul of the house, who has made all the money, is her husband. Oh, my Uncle Diego looks out for number one. There is no abler nor more prudent merchant on all the eastern coast. Believe me, anything he lets go by isn't worth stooping to pick up."

"Surely, according to what I have been given to understand by himself, it is the seÑora who guides him in difficult matters, who really holds the tiller in the business."

"Yes, yes," said MartÍ, smiling and a little out of countenance, "I do not doubt that my Aunt Clara gives him some good counsel, but not of necessity. In Valencia he is considered a bit crafty. It is possible that there may be some truth in it. You know the Galicians——"

He coughed to hide his embarrassment, and to change the conversation. I had already taken notice that it was repugnant to him to find any fault. He found himself on terra firma only when he was praising people, and he did this with such ardor that he seemed to taste a peculiar pleasure in it. Rare and precious quality, that ever made him more worthy of esteem in my eyes!

When we had finished breakfast, I pretended that I had occupations, and left him to look after his own. I went out into the streets again, and I soon encountered Sabas in one of the nearest ones. He seemed to me even more dried up and black than last night. He saluted me with grave courtesy, and after turning and joining me, urged me to accompany him to his house, as it was necessary for him to change his clothes. I was surprised at this necessity, as I could not see that he was damp or untidy. Later I found out that it was his custom to change his garb three or four times every day, following the elegant rules of court life.

Meantime, as we wended our way to his house, not far from that of his brother-in-law, he informed me that he had a collection of canes and of pipes—a very notable collection. It appeared that it was one of the sights most worthy a visit of any in the city, and with an amiability that I appreciated highly, he offered to show it to me. He lived in a charming little house. His wife came to open the door for us, to whom he said laconically:

"I have come to change."

We went to his room, and he at once proceeded to open the cupboards wherein he kept the canes. There were, indeed, a lot of them and of many kinds, and he exhibited them with a pleasure and pride that filled me with even more astonishment than their number and variety.

"You see this palasan; it has forty-two knots. It had forty-three, but it was necessary to take off one, because it was too long. Look at this other one, this violet stick." He stroked it. "Feel it. This one is of tortoise-shell. It is the real thing—a white one. It was brought to me by the captain of one of my brother-in-law's steamers."

The door of the room was half-opened and a little red head appeared.

"Papa, mamma let us come to give you a kiss."

"Run away; we are busy now," replied the father solemnly, dismissing the child with a gesture. But I had gone to the door, and I kissed with pleasure that little red head. He was a bright child of six or seven years. Behind him came another smaller one, red-headed too, and leading by the hand a girl of three or four years, dark, with great black eyes and curling black hair. I have never seen more lovely little creatures. I caressed them all warmly, and especially the little girl, whose velvety eyes were marvellous. But they were all timid, and without paying attention to my questions, looked doubtfully at their father. His face showed sternness and annoyance. He seemed offended that I found his collection of children more notable than his canes. He kissed them as if in compromise, and when his wife came running to find them, he said to her sharply:

"Why did you let them come in here while I was busy?"

"They got away while I was getting out a shirt for you," she answered humbly.

And pushing the chicks before her, she drove them from the room. After this I felt hopeful that her husband would terminate his exhibition of canes. He finished at last, and I, knowing that I flattered him, uttered a thousand exaggerations about his collection, which profoundly delighted him. He then took the liberty of dressing before me. His wife began to wait upon him like the most efficient and servile of valets. She put on his shirt; she put on his cravat; she got down upon the floor to fasten the buttons of his shoes. This happy husband let himself be dressed and polished off with a restrained gravity, meantime prattling about his canes and pipes, these collections being, it appeared, the aim and end of his existence. From time to time he reproved his meek spouse.

"Don't fasten it so tight! Less dressing and more rubbing on these shoes! Tell the maid that I wish her to take care not to daub my shoes. I don't care for that cravat; bring me a scarf that will tie!"

Finding a button off his waistcoat, he was struck dumb. He stared at his wife with a look so severe that it made her flush.

"I don't know how I missed it," she stammered. "It came off when the waistcoat was washed. I put it aside to sew it on. I was called to the kitchen, and after all I forgot all about it."

"Nothing, it is nothing! Of what consequence is one button more or less?" he said with a sarcastic smile.

"You know I am very sorry about it."

"Have I not told you it is nothing, madam? Why do you worry about it? One button, one button! What does one button signify compared to a bit of gossip with the laundress?"

"But, man, for heaven's sake, don't be like that!" she cried in anguish.

"Have I said anything?" he shouted, furious.

Matilde controlled herself and occupied herself with sewing on the button.

"How should I be? Say!" he persisted with unabated fury.

His wife did not look up.

Sabas then permitted several snorts to escape him, mingled with incoherent words, and accompanied by a gnashing of teeth that the sarcastic smile still upon his lips made even more repellent.

With heroic courage I tried to soothe his troubled spirit. The winds fell, the waves became tranquil, and he said to me affably:

"You are going to dine on a paella to-day. I know it already from Cristina. My sister has a cook who stews like an angel."

Matilde finished sewing on the button. When she lifted her head I saw tears in her eyes.

Sabas gave the signal for starting, but first he sent his good lady to find his gloves, to bring his stick, and then his handkerchief. He drenched it with scent from a perfume bottle, gave the last polish to his shoes, and a few touches of the comb to his whiskers. Matilde fluttered about him like a butterfly, arranging his coat and his cravat and his hat with her plump white hands. And when he, dismissing her, took her chin in his hand with a careless, protecting gesture her eyes shone with a radiant, triumphant expression that seemed to transport her to the heavens.

In the passage as we were going out we encountered the three children, who would have thrown themselves upon their father to be kissed, but he stopped them with a threatening gesture.

"No, I can't now. I should be all slobbered over."

I, who had no fears of being daubed, kissed them with pleasure, wishing to make amends to them for his crossness. Vain hope! They received my caresses with indifference, following with their eyes their elegant and morose papa.

Matilde watched us from the top of the stair, having eyes for nothing but her husband. She noticed that the collar-band of his shirt did not fit well, on account of his overcoat, hastened to pull it down for him and turn it up; and profited by the opportunity to give a few more touches to his whiskers with her fingers.

It was now eleven o'clock in the forenoon. The streets were full of people. The sun shone in the sky in all its splendor. We breathed a perfumed air, proving ourselves to be in the city of flowers. At every step we encountered servants carrying branches and sprays of them that loving ones were sending to delight their friends. In Valencia flowers make up so large a part of life, and their use is so general and natural, that the sending of flowers is like saying good-morning. Contemplating this profusion of carnations, roses, and lilies that rejoice the eyes and make fragrant the air, I could not help saying, "This is the city where there is so much that is lovely to enjoy that it matters little what one does with one's days!"

I could have gone about the streets with pleasure until time for dinner, but Sabas felt himself in duty bound to invite me to take an appetizer, and we entered a cafÉ in the Plaza de la Reina.

While sipping a glass of vermouth Sabas showed himself loquacious and expansive, but without losing his natural gravity. He talked to me about his family and friends. I saw at once that he had an analytical temperament of the first rank, clear perceptions, and a keen instinct for seeing the weak side of people and things.

His sister was a discreet woman, affectionate, of upright and noble intentions—but her character was excessively difficult; she enjoyed opposing people; at times she lacked courtesy; she was wanting in docility, in a certain meekness absolutely essential in a woman; lastly, although really generous, she did not make herself liked.

I should have enjoyed protesting against this absurd summing up. It was precisely these qualities of her character, at once timid and resolute, and her coldness a bit harsh, that made me more in love than ever. I abstained, however, for prudential reasons, from speaking.

His brother-in-law was, poor fellow, an industrious man, generous, intelligent in business—but absolutely incapable, as everybody knew. All the world imposed upon him and used him. He was of a temperament so volatile that as soon as he had undertaken one project he was tired of it, and thinking of another. This had made him lose a great deal of money. He could not tell how many enterprises MartÍ had engaged in. Some of them would have been very successful if he had stayed in them; but he scarcely encountered the first difficulties in them before he threw them aside, abandoned them. He had only shown himself persistent where it was absolutely useless—in the matter of the artesian wells. What a lot of money the man had already carried off and buried in that wretched business! The one thing that had really turned out well had been the steamboats, and these he did not start, but inherited them from his father.

His friend Castell possessed great learning, expressed himself admirably, and was immensely rich—but had not a scrap of heart. He had never shown any affection for anybody. Emilio was mistaken through and through in thinking that he returned the passionate, fervent adoration that he felt for him.

"But do not touch upon this point when you are again with him, as I have tried it several times. Whenever the conversation brings in the name of Castell it is necessary to open the mouth, roll up the eyes to their whites, and fall into an ecstasy, as if one beheld a divinity of Olympus. Castell knows this weakness of my brother-in-law, approves of it, and gives himself airs over it. For the rest, on the day when he has any need of him, he will see how the matter stands then."

"But MartÍ told me that he finds money for him when he needs it in his business," I put in.

"Yes, yes," he agreed with his sarcastic smile; "I do not doubt that he finds money for him, but everybody in Valencia knows the meaning of that."

I asked no questions. Having been admitted into the intimacy of the family, I would not prompt him. Sabas went on:

"This man is, moreover, vicious and immoral. He has been entangled for years with a woman who has borne him several children; but this is no obstacle to his bringing back a charmer with him whenever he makes a foreign journey. He has already had three, one of them a Greek, a beautiful woman! He keeps them a while and presently tires of them, like lackeys who no longer please him. This, you understand, makes a great scandal in a provincial capital; but as he is named Don Enrique Castell and owns eight or ten million pesetas, nobody wishes to offend him. The priests and the canons, and even up to the bishop, take off their hats to him a league off."

"I have been told of the wealth of your relations, the Retamosos!"

"Oh, no; that is a much more modest fortune; it is counted by thousands of duros, not by millions; but all that has been earned bit by bit, did you know it?—peseta by peseta, at first behind a counter, and then at a desk."

"Your Aunt Clara, it seems, is a lady of much judgment in business."

Sabas roared with laughter.

"My Aunt Clara is an imbecile! She has never done anything in all her life, except speak English with governesses and show her classic nose in the Glorieta and the Alameda. But my Uncle Diego is the slyest Galician born in this century. He laughs at his wife, and he is capable of laughing at his own ghost. I do not consider that he has ability for any great enterprises. He has not, as I just said, the genius of affairs; but I assure you that, among those who handle small amounts, I have never known, nor do I think you could readily find, a more cautious man."

In this fashion my elegant friend continued his studies of his family with a criticism implacable, yet clever and at times witty. From that he went on to talk about his native city; and I found his observations concerning the character of the Valencians, their customs, politics, and administration of provincial affairs, sharp and to the point. I confess that I had mistaken him. I had at first taken him for a mere coxcomb, a vapid and frivolous young man. He turned out to be a man of good understanding, observing and clever, although a little exaggerated in his analyses, and sufficiently severe.

We went out of the cafÉ, and before going to the house, we took another turn in the streets. Naturally, as I am a native of the east coast, son of a sailor, and myself a sailor, the aspect of the great Mediterranean city had an especial seduction for me. The narrow streets, tortuous, clean, with their profusion of fine shops; the large number of ancient stone houses with artistic faÇades, belonging to noble families that have made their names known and respected throughout the world; the hill towers, among whose turrets one may imagine still flit the old-time archers; the bridges with their benches; the Lonja, whose rooms of exceptional size and beauty shelter the richest traders of Spain; the lively market-place and open space about—all reveal, together with her mercantile traditions, an ancient and opulent capital. All spoke to me of the grandeur of my race.

I gave myself into the hands of my companion, who took me to the flower-market. We were not long in penetrating an iron-walled passage where, on one side and the other, leaving space in the middle, was seen a multitude of pale, black-eyed women exhibiting their merchandise—carnations, roses, lilies, hibiscus, and iris. Great was the animation in this little place. Ladies, with their rosaries and mass-books in their hands, stood before these venders, examining their wares with liberal and intelligent eye, and bargaining everlastingly before deciding to buy. Gentlemen laden with branches and sprays were given numerous instructions concerning their arrangement. Servants and shop-girls also hastened to the stalls, took their little handful of flowers, stuck some of them in their hair, and leaving their bits of copper, marched happily away with others in their hands, to continue their tasks. With what enthusiasm they would look at their flower-fillets! With what pleasure they breathed their fragrance!

As we cruised among the stalls I observed that most of the flower-venders greeted my friend by name, smiling amiably upon him, and asking him if he had no orders to give.

"You are popular in the market," I said to him, laughing.

"I am a good customer, nothing more," he answered modestly.

And placing his hand on my shoulder, he pushed me towards one of the doors, where we stationed ourselves, somewhat retired and half-hidden among the foliage.

"This is a strategic point," he said to me. "You will see how many fine figures pass by here within five minutes."

And truly the ladies who entered by the other door, after making their purchases or giving their orders, went out by this one. They passed so near us that their dresses brushed us. My companion had a compliment or a pleasant word for all. Many of them knew him and greeted him; some paused an instant to respond with gracious repartee to his gallant phrases. I was surprised at the impudence with which this man, married, and understanding good form, thus paid court to women; and yet more that they accepted his gallantries without reserve.

I have seen many beautiful faces in the various lands where my wandering life has carried me, but nowhere so many, so delicate, of such opaline transparency of complexion, of such exquisite purity as now. Then, what eyes! The soul moved in their blackness and mystery as if yearning to enfold you in happy dreams—sweet, voluptuous, unfathomable eyes, that seemed to hold both love and death. From among the multitude of heads there was cast upon me a swift glance. It was she; yes, it was she! While still she was hid in the crowd, I knew it was she who approached! My heart began to beat violently. In a few moments she appeared. She was dressed in black, and wore a mantilla. In one hand she carried her mass-book and a rosary wound about her wrist like a bracelet; in the other, a bunch of carnations. She was with her cousin Isabelita, and both were accompanied by Castell. I cannot explain the sort of impression that man made upon me at this moment. My heart was constricted as if in the presence of great danger, and the vague antipathy he had inspired me with the night before was transformed into hatred. The violence with which this feeling was born within me surprised me, but I did not confess to myself the cause of it. I held it well in hand and forced myself to appear as agreeable as I could.

They seemed surprised when they saw us. Castell and Isabelita congratulated us on the excellent position that we had chosen.

"What doesn't this rogue know about the conduct of gallantries!" exclaimed the daughter of Retamoso, giving Sabas a tap on the shoulder with her book. And then, laughing, she blushed like a poppy.

"Come, cousin," returned Sabas, "at least you know that I haven't offered you any gallantries. But we still have time. You are got up with so much elegance that on seeing you I forget our family ties."

Isabelita blushed even more, if that were possible. Sabas persisted in his compliments. Castell came to his aid. Meanwhile Cristina glanced absently from one to another. I divined that it was to avoid meeting my eyes.

Sabas spoke to her:

"Little sister, aren't you going to put one of your carnations in my button-hole?"

"Why not?" she answered.

And handing her book to her cousin, she took the largest and most beautiful one in her bouquet and fastened it where he bade her.

Moved by a sudden impulse, and with a daring that I thought I had lost towards this woman, I said:

"And is there nothing for the others?"

"Would you like one?" she asked me, handing me one with a glance.

"No; I desire the honor of having you fasten it in my button-hole," I replied firmly.

There was an instant of suspense. She showed indecision; but at last picked out another carnation and hastily put it in its place. I thought I noticed (it may have been illusion, I do not know) that her hands trembled. Oh, Dios, with what pleasure I could have kissed them!

"And I? Do I not have my turn?" asked Castell then, bowing with an amiable smile.

"Oh, pshaw! we have already had enough of carnations," she said crossly, going on out of the door.

"I came too late," murmured the banker in some confusion.

"Would you like one of mine?" Isabelita asked him, timidly.

"Oh, with the greatest pleasure."

And he bowed smiling, and apparently delighted while the young girl placed the carnation in his coat. Yet I understood that he was disgruntled.

We all followed Cristina; and her cousin paired off with her, Sabas, Castell, and I walking behind. But we had not walked far when Sabas saw a charming shop-girl, and stopped to chat with her. Castell and I waited for him a moment, but seeing he was not likely to finish soon, we followed on after the ladies.

"This brother-in-law of MartÍ's seems to me a youngster of a good deal of ability," I said to my companion.

"As a critic?" asked Castell, laconically.

"As a critic?" I returned, surprised.

"Yes; he is admirably endowed with power to see the weak and strong sides of things, to weigh and measure, to compare, to penetrate the labyrinths of conscience. But these faculties are exercised upon others; it never occurs to him to apply them to himself. Thus all his analyses, criticisms, wise and pointed counsels, are wasted; and he is an absolutely fatuous and useless man. He has undertaken five or six careers, and gone on in none of them; he wasted his patrimony in gambling and dissipation; he martyrizes his wife, neglects his children, and he is at present living on his brother-in-law."

"A good panegyric!" I exclaimed, laughing.

"You will hear the same from all sensible people in town. This does not hinder him from being an agreeable fellow, popular and generally liked; and this is because his defects can scarcely be called public, but private vices."

We joined the ladies at last, and arrived at MartÍ's about the hour of dinner. My hosts had invited in my honor the company of the night before, all of them with the exception of Castell being members of the family. Emilio made me sit at his wife's right. The touch of her dress, the perfume that floated from her, and a yet more mysterious fluid wherewith her nearness filled me, intoxicated and upset me. This went so far that, desiring to show myself gallant and attentive to her, I could scarcely say or do the most ordinary things. I spilled water on the tablecloth, I asked her three times if she liked olives, and dropped the olive-fork in offering her one. But I was happy, and I could not conceal it.

She showed herself courteous and a little more kindly disposed, thanking me for my attentions and gracefully covering up my blunders.

It made me even more happy when Castell fixed his glance upon the carnation in my button-hole, and asked me with his cold, ironical smile:

"Captain, would you take a thousand pesetas for that carnation you are wearing?"

"A thousand pesetas!" exclaimed MartÍ, looking up in surprise.

I was indescribably agitated, as if I had been surprised in the act of committing a crime. I knew no better than to smile stupidly and exclaim:

"How full of jokes you are!"

But Cristina held up her beautiful head proudly, and turning to Castell, she said:

"Captain Ribot is a gentleman, and does not sell the flowers that a lady bestows upon him."

"Ah, so she bestowed it upon you!" said MartÍ, and turning to Castell added: "But, Enrique, would you wish Ribot to sell you this carnation, when, if she had given it to me, I, although her husband, would not let you have it for your whole fortune?"

And at the same time he gazed at his wife with a look of intense affection. The innocence and nobleness of that man moved me. He must have touched the soul of Cristina. Dropping her head again, she murmured in intense tones:

"Thou art thou—tu!"

These simple words were a poem of tenderness.

"It is well known," observed Castell with the same indifference, "that there are things in the world that cannot be and should not be bought with money. Unfortunately men are not in the same category with them, and therefore we pursue material and even gross objects until we secure them, however remote they may be."

"But I do not find them remote," said Sabas. "It seems to me that money serves well enough for almost all the cases that present themselves. Thus you hold another carnation to be better than this. This was given me by a lady. All right, Castell, I will let you have this one for two pesetas."

The company laughed. Cristina seemed vexed and said to her brother:

"You are rude; you are a clodhopper. Matilde, do me the favor of taking the carnation away from that pig. After that, he shall not keep it."

Sabas covered it up with his hands.

"Wait a bit, my girl, wait a bit. If Castell pays the two pesetas, I'll give it up. Until then we do not separate, no!"

"Here it is!" said Castell, taking the money out of his pocket-book and passing it across the table.

"There—go!" said Sabas, passing over the carnation.

This jest produced a shout at the table. Yet it did not please Cristina. She was furious, and called her brother names, and vowed that she would never give him another flower as long as she lived.

Meanwhile I had had time to recover from the extreme agitation that the words of Castell had caused me. We finished dining gayly, but Cristina did not again appear smiling and cordial as before.

Two hours later I took the train for Barcelona, where my presence was indispensable. I was accompanied to the station by MartÍ and Sabas. MartÍ made me promise another and a longer visit.

"After my next voyage," I told him, "I am thinking of asking the company's permission to stop at home when they change the order of time for the ships, six weeks hence. Then I will come down from Alicante and spend a week or a fortnight with you."

"We shall see if you are a man of your word," he replied, squeezing my hand affectionately until it was time for me to take the train and be off.