The Torrent

unger trees, were two rubblework benches, white-washed, the backs and armrests of ancient Valencian tiles, the glazed surfaces flecked with arabesques and varicolored fancies inherited from days of Sa

square with a cool

ing the "Life" of the day's saint. At her side was the maid. A true daughter of the campagna of Rome, Beppa

tress, with lowered head, was following the moveme

much changed after

d taken on the golden transparency of ripened grain under the continued caress of the Valencian sun. Her slender

art of her body almost. I feel better this way.... Would you believe it? I've actually deserted my dressing-table, and the perfume I used lies all forsaken and forlorn. Fresh water, plenty of fresh water ... that's what I like. I'm a long way from the Leonora who had to paint herself every night

Leonora seemed to have descended from her height and drawn closer to him. But she guessed wha

sformation, but an irresistible one; this country life gradually filled me with its peace and calm; it went to my head like a bland delicious wine. I just sleep and sleep, living the life of a human animal, free from every emotion, and quite willing never to wake up again. Why,

t imagine how I worried up in Madrid wondering

ou never were a friend, exactly, of good old Cupido, you've been writing him frequently-and all sorts of nonsense; just as a pretext for the really important thing-the pos

ured you I would not forget, in Madrid. Well, Leonora; I di

ormer days. "I know you're telling the truth. And it saddens me, because it really is too bad. You

n from such dangerous ground, she beg

I've forgotten the piano. I hadn't opened it for more than a week, but this afternoon-I don't know why-I just felt like spending a little while in the society of the geniuses. I was thirsty for music ... one of those moody whims of the olden days. Perhaps the presentiment that you were coming: the thought of those afternoons when you were upstairs, sitting like a booby in the corner, listening to me.... But don't jump to the conclusion, my dear deputy, that everything here is mere play-just chickens and the simple life. No, sir! I have turned my leisure to serious account. I have done big things to t

e explaining to the Italian maid the prodigious miracles wrought by the patron of Alcira, and trying to persuade t

f flood protection, I sent to Alcira for the paper and read the story through I don't know how many times, believing blindly everything said in praise of you. I once met Gladstone at a concert given by the Queen at Windsor Castle; I have known men who got to be presidents of their countries on sheer eloquence-not to mention the politicians of Spain. The majority of them I've had, one time or another, as hangers-on in my dressing-room-once I had sung at the 'Real.' W

solitude, country life and the longing for rest and quiet. But once in actual contact with him again, the sight, again, of that lovesick expression in eye

imitating her sarcastic smile. "It's humanly conceivable that even you

trying to evade this explanation. I have brought up a thousand subjects, I have inquired about your life in Madrid-even going into details that haven't the slightest interest for me-all to keep the talk off love. But with you, that's impossible; you always come back to that sooner or later. Very well, so be it ... But I'll never love you-I m

king," Rafael exclaimed. "Just what do you

ized at things. Virtue is broad-minded and tolerant; and people, through a selfish desire to have their own weaknesses condoned, are careful not to censure others too harshly.

inous, mocking eyes, and with such frankness that Raf

Many men have proposed marriage to me in my time, to prove what fools they were, I suppose. More than once they've offered me their ducal crowns or the prestige of their

ply. There was a ring of sarcasm, of unspeakable scorn in it, which reminded

n there. And I know also what happened to you before you left for Madrid. We find out everything here, Rafaelito. The gossip of these people carries-it reaches even this solitary spot. I know perfectly well how your mother hates me, and I've even he

! But to escape from what he felt to be a ridicul

ossip spread by my enemies. I am of age, and I dar

had come here for the sole purpose of capturing their don Rafael! You can see how far such a thing is from my mind. It would be the end of the peace and quiet I came here to find. If they talk that way now, when I'm as innocent as a l

the city that was hidden from view behind the

hich she was always ready to make herself the first victim-

ing about the world since I was sixteen, from one theatre to another. And my accursed disposition, my mania for concealing nothing, for refusing to lie, has helped make me worse than I really am. I have many enemies in this world who are just gloating, I am sure, because I have suddenly disappeared. You can't advance a step on

l hotly. "I'd like to have so

icence, luxury; then again bravery; then again just plain, ordinary, good looks! And I would be off the moment the excitement, the novelty, was gone, without a thought for the desperation of my lovers at finding their dreams shattered. And from all this wild career of mine-it has taken in a good

harp snap with h

along together better. I can understand now why it is a peasant woman will walk miles and miles, under a scorching sun or a pouring rain, to have a priest listen to her confession. I am in that

confessor even, to deserve your confiden

eak. A few winter rains will wash the paint off and show the mould that's underneath. Inside, believe me, Rafael, I am a ruin. The walls are crumbling, the floors are giving way. I have burned my life out in gaiety. I have singed my wings in a headlong rush into the candle-flame of life. Do you know what I am? I am one of those old hulks drawn up on the beach. From a distance their paint seems to have all the color of their first voyages; but when you get closer you see that all they ask for is to be let alone to grow old and crumble away on the sand in peace. And you, who are setting out on your life voyage, come gaily asking for a berth on a wreck that

was a ring of sincerity in her voice. The forced smile had vanished from her face. She was s

laugh? Well, I've made a good start already toward becoming a hen, and the career suits me to a 't.' Every Wednesday I go to market, to buy a pullet and some eggs; and I haggle with the vendors just for the fun of it, finally giving them the price they ask for; I invite the peasant women to have a cup of chocolate with me, and come home escorted by a whole crowd of them; and they listen in astonishment when I talk to Beppa in Italian! If you could only see how fond they are of me!... They can hardly believe their eyes when they see the si?orita isn't half so black as the city people paint her. You remember that poor woman we saw up at the Hermitage that afternoon? Well, she's a frequent visitor, and I always give her something. She, too, is fond of me....

nd the Italian maid had gone into the house. The good

n back, the muscles of her arching neck tense and drawn. She seemed wrapt in ecstacy, as

ack to the past, after so many months of tranquillity.... Please don't speak! No, not a word, please. You have the rare skill, though you don't know it, o

e to the little square. The house was soon behind them, lost in the thick crests o

s, a more well-behaved person. No nonsense, no familiarities, eh? Be