Suddenly Don Cayetano Polentinos, Doña Perfecta’s brother-in-law, appeared at the door, and entering the room with outstretched arms, cried:
“Let me embrace you, my dear Don José.”
They embraced each other cordially. Don Cayetano and Pepe were already acquainted with each other, for the eminent1 scholar and bibliophile2 was in the habit of making a trip to Madrid whenever an executor’s sale of the stock of some dealer3 in old books was advertised. Don Cayetano was tall and thin, of middle age, although constant study or ill-health had given him a worn appearance; he expressed himself with a refined correctness which became him admirably, and he was affectionate and amiable4 in his manners, at times to excess. With respect to his vast learning, what can be said but that he was a real prodigy6? In Madrid his name was always mentioned with respect, and if Don Cayetano had lived in the capital, he could not have escaped becoming a member, in spite of his modesty7, of every academy in it, past, present, and to come. But he was fond of quiet and retirement8, and the place which vanity occupies in the souls of others, a pure passion for books, a love of solitary9 and secluded10 study, without any other aim or incentive11 than the books and the study themselves, occupied in his.
He had formed in Orbajosa one of the finest libraries that is to be found in all Spain, and among his books he passed long hours of the day and of the night, compiling, classifying, taking notes, and selecting various sorts of precious information, or composing, perhaps, some hitherto unheard-of and undreamed-of work, worthy12 of so great a mind. His habits were patriarchal; he ate little, drank less, and his only dissipations consisted of a luncheon13 in the Alamillos on very great occasions, and daily walks to a place called Mundogrande, where were often disinterred from the accumulated dust of twenty centuries, medals, bits of architecture, and occasionally an amphora or cubicularia of inestimable value.
Don Cayetano and Doña Perfecta lived in such perfect harmony that the peace of Paradise was not to be compared to it. They never disagreed. It is true that Don Cayetano never interfered14 in the affairs of the house nor Doña Perfecta in those of the library, except to have it swept and dusted every Saturday, regarding with religious respect the books and papers that were in use on the table or anywhere else in the room.
After the questions and answers proper to the occasion had been interchanged Don Cayetano said:
“I have already looked at the books. I am very sorry that you did not bring me the edition of 1527. I shall have to make a journey to Madrid myself. Are you going to remain with us long? The longer the better, my dear Pepe. How glad I am to have you here! Between us both we will arrange a part of my library and make an index of the writers on the Art of Horsemanship. It is not always one has at hand a man of your talents. You shall see my library. You can take your fill of reading there—as often as you like. You will see marvels15, real marvels, inestimable treasures, rare works that no one but myself has a copy of. But I think it must be time for dinner, is it not, José? Is it not, Perfecta? Is it not, Rosarito? Is it not, Señor Don Inocencio? To-day you are doubly a Penitentiary16—I mean because you will accompany us in doing penance17.”
The canon bowed and smiled, manifesting his pleased acquiescence18. The dinner was substantial, and in all the dishes there was noticeable the excessive abundance of country banquets, realized at the expense of variety. There was enough to surfeit19 twice as many persons as sat down to table. The conversation turned on various subjects.
“You must visit our cathedral as soon as possible,” said the canon. “There are few cathedrals like ours, Señor Don José! But of course you, who have seen so many wonders in foreign countries, will find nothing remarkable20 in our old church. We poor provincials21 of Orbajosa, however, think it divine. Master Lopez of Berganza, one of the prebendaries of the cathedral, called it in the sixteenth century pulchra augustissima. But perhaps for a man of your learning it would possess no merit, and some market constructed of iron would seem more beautiful.”
The ironical22 remarks of the wily canon annoyed Pepe Rey more and more every moment, but, determined23 to control himself and to conceal24 his anger, he answered only with vague words. Doña Perfecta then took up the theme and said playfully:
“Take care, Pepito; I warn you that if you speak ill of our holy church we shall cease to be friends. You know a great deal, you are a man eminent for your knowledge on every subject, but if you are going to discover that that grand edifice25 is not the eighth wonder of the world you will do well to keep your knowledge to yourself and leave us in our ignorance.”
“Far from thinking that the building is not handsome,” responded Pepe, “the little I have seen of its exterior26 has seemed to me of imposing27 beauty. So there is no need for you to be alarmed, aunt. And I am very far from being a savant.”
“Softly; softly,” said the canon, extending his hand and giving his mouth a truce28 from eating in order to talk. “Stop there—don’t come now pretending modesty, Señor Don José; we are too well aware of your great merit, of the high reputation you enjoy and the important part you play wherever you are, for that. Men like you are not to be met with every day. But now that I have extolled29 your merits in this way——”
He stopped to eat a mouthful, and when his tongue was once more at liberty he continued thus:
“Now that I have extolled your merits in this way, permit me to express a different opinion with the frankness which belongs to my character. Yes, Señor Don José, yes, Señor Don Cayetano; yes, señora and señorita, science, as the moderns study and propagate it, is the death of sentiment and of every sweet illusion. Under its influence the life of the spirit declines, every thing is reduced to fixed30 rules, and even the sublime31 charms of nature disappear. Science destroys the marvellous in the arts, as well as faith in the soul. Science says that every thing is a lie, and would reduce every thing to figures and lines, not only maria ac terras, where we are, but coelumque profundum, where God is. The wonderful visions of the soul, its mystic raptures32, even the inspiration of the poets, are all a lie. The heart is a sponge; the brain, a place for breeding maggots.”
“Come, now, will Señor Don José deny,” continued the ecclesiastic34, “that science, as it is taught and propagated to-day, is fast making of the world and of the human race a great machine?”
“Take some more salad, Señor Penitentiary,” said Doña Perfecta; “it is just as you like it—with a good deal of mustard.”
Pepe Rey was not fond of engaging in useless discussions; he was not a pedant35, nor did he desire to make a display of his learning, and still less did he wish to do so in the presence of women, and in a private re-union; but the importunate36 and aggressive verbosity37 of the canon required, in his opinion, a corrective. To flatter his vanity by agreeing with his views would, he thought, be a bad way to give it to him, and he determined therefore to express only such opinions as should be most directly opposed to those of the sarcastic38 Penitentiary and most offensive to him.
“So you wish to amuse yourself at my expense,” he said to himself. “Wait, and you will see what a fine dance I will lead you.”
Then he said aloud:
“All that the Señor Penitentiary has said ironically is the truth. But it is not our fault if science overturns day after day the vain idols39 of the past: its superstitions40, its sophisms, its innumerable fables—beautiful, some of them, ridiculous others—for in the vineyard of the Lord grow both good fruit and bad. The world of illusions, which is, as we might say, a second world, is tumbling about us in ruins. Mysticism in religion, routine in science, mannerism42 in art, are falling, as the Pagan gods fell, amid jests. Farewell, foolish dreams! the human race is awakening43 and its eyes behold44 the light. Its vain sentimentalism, its mysticism, its fevers, its hallucination, its delirium45 are passing away, and he who was before sick is now well and takes an ineffable46 delight in the just appreciation47 of things. Imagination, the terrible madwoman, who was the mistress of the house, has become the servant. Look around you, Señor Penitentiary, and you will see the admirable aggregation48 of truths which has taken the place of fable41. The sky is not a vault49; the stars are not little lamps; the moon is not a sportive huntress, but an opaque50 mass of stone; the sun is not a gayly adorned51 and vagabond charioteer but a fixed fire; Scylla and Charybdis are not nymphs but sunken rocks; the sirens are seals; and in the order of personages, Mercury is Manzanedo; Mars is a clean-shaven old man, the Count von Moltke; Nestor may be a gentleman in an overcoat, who is called M. Thiers; Orpheus is Verdi; Vulcan is Krupp; Apollo is any poet. Do you wish more? Well, then, Jupiter, a god who, if he were living now, would deserve to be put in jail, does not launch the thunderbolt, but the thunderbolt falls when electricity wills it. There is no Parnassus; there is no Olympus; there is no Stygian lake; nor are there any other Elysian Fields than those of Paris. There is no other descent to hell than the descents of Geology, and this traveller, every time he returns from it, declares that there are no damned souls in the centre of the earth. There are no other ascents52 to heaven than those of Astronomy, and she, on her return, declares that she has not seen the six or seven circles of which Dante and the mystical dreamers of the Middle Ages speak. She finds only stars and distances, lines, vast spaces, and nothing more. There are now no false computations of the age of the earth, for paleontology and prehistoric53 research have counted the teeth of this skull54 in which we live and discovered the true age. Fable, whether it be called paganism or Christian55 idealism, exists no longer, and imagination plays only a secondary part. All the miracles possible are such as I work, whenever I desire to do so, in my laboratory, with my Bunsen pile, a conducting wire, and a magnetized needle. There are now no other multiplications56 of loaves and fishes than those which Industry makes, with her moulds and her machines, and those of the printing press, which imitates Nature, taking from a single type millions of copies. In short, my dear canon, orders have been given to put on the retired57 list all the absurdities58, lies, illusions, dreams, sentimentalities, and prejudices which darken the understanding of man. Let us rejoice at the fact.”
When Pepe finished speaking, a furtive59 smile played upon the canon’s lips and his eyes were extraordinarily60 animated61. Don Cayetano busied himself in giving various forms—now rhomboidal, now prismatic—to a little ball of bread. But Doña Perfecta was pale and kept her eyes fixed on the canon with observant insistence62. Rosarito looked with amazement63 at her cousin. The latter, bending toward her, whispered under his breath:
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1
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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bibliophile
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| n.爱书者；藏书家 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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prodigy
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| n.惊人的事物，奇迹，神童，天才，预兆 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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incentive
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| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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15
marvels
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| n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 )；令人惊奇的事物（或事例）；不平凡的成果；成就v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
penitentiary
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| n.感化院；监狱 | |
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penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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acquiescence
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| n.默许；顺从 | |
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surfeit
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| v.使饮食过度；n.(食物)过量，过度 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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provincials
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| n.首都以外的人，地区居民( provincial的名词复数 ) | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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extolled
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| v.赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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32
raptures
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| 极度欢喜( rapture的名词复数 ) | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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34
ecclesiastic
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| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
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pedant
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| n.迂儒；卖弄学问的人 | |
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importunate
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| adj.强求的；纠缠不休的 | |
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verbosity
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| n.冗长，赘言 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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idols
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| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
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superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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42
mannerism
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| n.特殊习惯，怪癖 | |
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43
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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48
aggregation
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| n.聚合，组合；凝聚 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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50
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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51
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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52
ascents
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| n.上升( ascent的名词复数 )；（身份、地位等的）提高；上坡路；攀登 | |
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53
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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54
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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56
multiplications
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| 增多( multiplication的名词复数 )； 增加； 乘； 繁殖 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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58
absurdities
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| n.极端无理性( absurdity的名词复数 )；荒谬；谬论；荒谬的行为 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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60
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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63
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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enrage
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| v.触怒，激怒 | |
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