Читать книгу Maximina - Armando Palacio Valdés - Страница 7

Table of Contents

Utrilla had gone to bed, feverish and nervous. And it was with very good reason. For the second time he had failed to pass his examination; he was as good as expelled from the Military Academy.[14]

His prescient heart had told him before the examination: "Jacobo, they will certainly ask you about the pendulum, and that is the very thing in which you are weakest!"

And indeed he had scarcely taken his seat before the tribunal, when, zas! the professor of physics said to him in a wheedling accent:—

"Señor Utrilla, have the goodness to explain for us the theory of the pendulum."

The cadet, rather pale, arose and looked with wild eyes at the professor's desk.... The algebra professor smiled ironically, as though he divined his confusion. Why had that old man taken such a dislike to him? Utrilla could not explain it otherwise than by envy; the professor had seen him at the theatre with Julita under his protection. He arose, and with uncertain steps went to the slaughter; that is, to the blackboard. With trembling hand he made a few ciphers, and at the end of fifteen minutes drew a deep sigh of relief, and returned to his seat. The professor of physics shook his head several times:—

"That is wrong, Señor Utrilla; that is wrong."

The cadet sponged out the figures that he made, and began the operation a second time. A second quarter of an hour, a second sigh of relief; more negative signs on the part of the professor.

"That is just as wrong, Señor Utrilla."

And Utrilla rubbed out his work again, and for the third time began to cipher; but now he was weak, confused, livid, persuaded that death was at hand.

"Still entirely wrong, Señor Utrilla," exclaimed the professor, in a tone of compassion.

The algebra man smiled mephistopheleanly, and said, with an affected accent in pure Andalusian:—

"There be three ways of spellin' proctor ... paroctor, peroctor, poroctor!"[15]

The gentlemen of the tribunal covered their eyes with their hands to hide their amusement. This sneer cut our cadet to the heart; he changed color several times in the course of a few moments.

"That will do; you are dismissed," said the professor of physics, trying in vain to put on a sober face.

The son of Mars retired, stumbling over everything in his way, as though he were blind; his neck was swollen, his Adam's apple preternaturally prominent, his heart boiling over with indignation and wrath.

As soon as he reached home, by the advice of the housekeeper he fainted away. His father, on learning the cause, instead of helping him, was furious, and exclaimed:—

"You might better die, you great good-for-nothing! This fellow has used up more of my patience and money than he is worth!"

Afterwards came the following family scene. When he recovered from his fainting fit, he was informed that his father and brother were waiting for him in the office on the first floor. Here our young soldier had to endure a new and grievous humiliation. His father attacked him in a rage, called him an imbecile and a blunderbuss, and showed him the book in which he had kept account of his expenses.

"For so many months of tutoring in mathematics, so much; drawing lessons, so much; dress uniform, so much; every day ditto, so much," etc., etc.

While his señor padre was lecturing him in an unnaturally high voice on this subject, his older brother was gnashing his teeth like one in torment; from time to time he gave utterance to pitiful groans, as though some demon had come that very moment to throw more coal in the furnace where they were roasting him. At last, when he succeeded in getting his breath, he exclaimed in a low voice:—

"The idea of a man having to humiliate himself from morning till night engaged in handling fat and lard in order that what he earns should be wasted by a fellow like this, in folderols and glasses of cognac!"

"It shall not be so any longer, Rafael! I swear it shall not!" roared the father. "After to-day this lazybones shall help you in the factory. There he will have a chance to learn how to earn his bread and butter!"

The ex-cadet was annihilated. He, a gentleman cadet in the most aristocratic corps of the army, to be suddenly transferred into the service of a candle factory! This for Utrilla was the height of degradation. He said nothing for a few moments: at last he spoke solemnly and deliberately in his deep bass:—

"If it has come to this, that my dignity must be lowered by making me a factory foreman, it would be better that I should be taken out into the field and shot down with half a dozen bullets!"

"Knocked down with half a dozen sticks; that's what you ought to have done to you, you good-for-nothing idler! Just wait! just wait!"

And the worthy manufacturer glanced angrily around the room, and seeing a reed cane leaning against the wall, he sprang to get it. But Achilles, he of the winged feet, had already darted out of the room, and in half a dozen leaps had reached his chamber.

Once across the threshold, he bolted the door with marvellous dexterity, and after listening breathlessly with his ear at the key-hole, in order to make sure that Peleus had not passed the middle of the corridor, he felt safe to give himself up to meditation.

He began to promenade up and down, across the room, from corner to corner, with his hands in his pockets, his head sunk and his shoulders lifted, thinking seriously how ...

But his sword was constantly thumping against the furniture and getting between his legs, and making it hard for him to walk; he took it off and flung it in military disgust on the sofa.

He came to the conclusion that two courses lay before him: one was to make his escape from the house, enlist in the army, and in this way fulfil the only vocation for which he felt any call; the other was to enter the factory and work there like his brother. It was necessary to make a decisive resolution, as became his inflexible and energetic character; and in very truth our ex-cadet, with an energy that has few examples in this degenerate epoch, promptly decided to work in the candle factory.

This important point having been settled, he became calmer, and could stop long enough to roll and smoke a cigarette.

One other thing, however, remained to be done, and this was one of great importance: to wipe out the insult which the algebra professor had given him during the examination. Utrilla argued in this way:—

If he remained in the army, the affront would not have been serious, because, of course, discipline forbids the inferior to demand satisfaction for insults from a superior; but once out of the corps and transformed into a civilian, the matter put on a different aspect—"Certainly very different!" he repeated, putting on a deep frown that was very imposing. "To-morrow I will settle this point."

And in this desperate state of mind our cadet set himself to work to indite the draft of a letter which he proposed to send to the algebra teacher.