“I am quite contented here,” responded Pepe. “I was just now saying to Rosario that I find this city and this house so pleasant that I would like to live and die here.”
Rosario turned very red and the others were silent. They all sat down in a summer-house, Jacinto hastening to take the seat on the left of the young girl.
“See here, nephew, I have a piece of advice to give you,” said Dona Perfecta, smiling with that expression of kindness that seemed to emanate from her soul, like the aroma from the flower. “But don’t imagine that I am either reproving you or giving you a lesson—you are not a child, and you will easily understand what I mean.”
“Scold me, dear aunt, for no doubt I deserve it,” replied Pepe, who was beginning to accustom himself to the kindnesses of his father’s sister.
“No, it is only a piece of advice. These gentlemen, I am sure, will agree that I am in the right.”
Rosario was listening with her whole soul.
“It is only this,” continued Dona Perfecta, “that when you visit our beautiful cathedral again, you will endeavor to behave with a little more decorum while you are in it.”
“Why, what have I done?”
“It does not surprise me that you are not yourself aware of your fault,” said his aunt, with apparent good humor. “It is only natural; accustomed as you are to enter athenaeums and clubs, and academies and congresses without any ceremony, you think that you can enter a temple in which the Divine Majesty is in the same manner.”
“But excuse me, senora,” said Pepe gravely, “I entered the cathedral with the greatest decorum.”
“But I am not scolding you, man; I am not scolding you. If you take it in that way I shall have to remain silent. Excuse my nephew, gentlemen. A little carelessness, a little heedlessness on his part is not to be wondered at. How many years is it since you set foot in a sacred place before?”
“Senora, I assure you–But, in short, let my religious ideas be what they may, I am in the habit of observing the utmost decorum in church.”
“What I assure you is–There, if you are going to be offended I won’t go on. What I assure you is that a great many people noticed it this morning. The Senores de Gonzalez, Dona Robustiana, Serafinita—in short, when I tell you that you attracted the attention of the bishop–His lordship complained to me about it this afternoon when I was at my cousin’s. He told me that he did not order you to be put out of the church only because you were my nephew.”
Rosario looked anxiously at her cousin, trying to read in his countenance, before he uttered it, the answer he would make to these charges.
“No doubt they mistook me for some one else.”
“No, no! it was you. But there, don’t get angry! We are talking here among friends and in confidence. It was you. I saw you myself.”
“You saw me!”
“Just so. Will you deny that you went to look at the pictures, passing among a group of worshippers who were hearing mass? I assure you that my attention was so distracted by your comings and goings that—well, you must not do it again. Then you went into the chapel of San Gregorio. At the elevation of the Host at the high altar you did not even turn around to make a gesture of reverence. Afterward you traversed the whole length of the church, you went up to the tomb of the Adelantado, you touched the altar with your hands, then you passed a second time among a group of worshippers, attracting the notice of every one. All the girls looked at you, and you seemed pleased at disturbing so finely the devotions of those good people.”
“Good Heavens! How many things I have done!” exclaimed Pepe, half angry, half amused. “I am a monster, it seems, without ever having suspected it.”
“No, I am very well aware that you are a good boy,” said Dona Perfecta, observing the canon’s expression of unalterable gravity, which gave his face the appearance of a pasteboard mask. “But, my dear boy, between thinking things and showing them in that irreverent manner, there is a distance which a man of good sense and good breeding should never cross. I am well aware that your ideas are–Now, don’t get angry! If you get angry, I will be silent. I say that it is one thing to have certain ideas about religion and another thing to express them. I will take good care not to reproach you because you believe that God did not create us in his image and likeness, but that we are descended from the monkeys; nor because you deny the existence of the soul, asserting that it is a drug, like the little papers of rhubarb and magnesia that are sold at the apothecary’s—”
“Senora, for Heaven’s sake!” exclaimed Pepe, with annoyance. “I see that I have a very bad reputation in Orbajosa.”
The others remained silent.
“As I said, I will not reproach you for entertaining those ideas. And, besides, I have not the right to do so. If I should undertake to argue with you, you, with your wonderful talents, would confute me a thousand times over. No, I will not attempt any thing of that kind. What I say is that these poor and humble inhabitants of Orbajosa are pious and good Christians, although they know nothing about German philosophy, and that, therefore, you ought not publicly to manifest your contempt for their beliefs.”
“My dear aunt,” said the engineer gravely, “I have shown no contempt for any one, nor do I entertain the ideas which you attribute to me. Perhaps I may have been a little wanting in reverence in the church. I am somewhat absent-minded. My thoughts and my attention were engaged with the architecture of the building and, frankly speaking, I did not observe–But this was no reason for the bishop to think of putting me out of the church, nor for you to suppose me capable of attributing to a paper from the apothecary’s the functions of the soul. I may tolerate that as a jest, but only as a jest.”
The agitation of Pepe Rey’s mind was so great that, notwithstanding his natural prudence and moderation, he was unable to conceal it.
“There! I see that you are angry,” said Dona Perfecta, casting down her eyes and clasping her hands. “I am very sorry. If I had known that you would have taken it in that way, I should not have spoken to you. Pepe, I ask your pardon.”
Hearing these words and seeing his kind aunt’s deprecating attitude, Pepe felt ashamed of the sternness of his last words, and he made an effort to recover his serenity. The venerable Penitentiary extricated him from his embarrassing position, saying with his accustomed benevolent smile:
“Senora Dona Perfecta, we must be tolerant with artists. Oh, I have known a great many of them! Those gentlemen, when they have before them a statue, a piece of rusty armor, a mouldy painting, or an old wall, forget every thing else. Senor Don Jose is an artist, and he has visited our cathedral as the English visit it, who would willingly carry it away with them to their museums, to its last tile, if they could. That the worshippers were praying, that the priest was elevating the Sacred Host, that the moment of supreme piety and devotion had come—what of that? What does all that matter to an artist? It is true that I do not know what art is worth, apart from the sentiments which it expresses, but, in fine, at the present day, it is the custom to adore the form, not the idea. God preserve me from undertaking to discuss this question with Senor Don Jose, who knows so much, and who, reasoning with the admirable subtlety of the moderns, would instantly confound my mind, in which there is only faith.”
“The determination which you all have to regard me as the most learned man on earth annoys me exceedingly,” said Pepe, speaking in his former hard tone. “Hold me for a fool; for I would rather be regarded as a fool than as the possessor of that Satanic knowledge which is here attributed to me.”