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to　her　mother's　pitiless　hate。

But　it　is　Dona　Perfecta　herself　who　is　the　transcendent　figure；　the　most　powerful　creation　of　the　book。　In　her；　bigotry　and　its　fellow…　vice；　hypocrisy；　have　done　their　perfect　work；　until　she　comes　near　to　being　a　devil；　and　really　does　some　devil's　deeds。　Yet　even　she　is　not　without　some　extenuating　traits。　Her　bigotry　springs　from　her　conscience；　and　she　is　truly　devoted　to　her　daughter's　eternal　welfare；　she　is　of　such　a　native　frankness　that　at　a　certain　point　she　tears　aside　her　mask　of　dissimulation　and　lets　Pepe　see　all　the　ugliness　of　her　perverted　soul。　She　is　wonderfully　managed。　At　what　moment　does　she　begin　to　hate　him；　and　to　wish　to　undo　her　own　work　in　making　a　match　between　him　and　her　daughter？　I　could　defy　anyone　to　say。　All　one　knows　is　that　at　one　moment　she　adores　her　brother's　son；　and　at　another　she　abhors　him；　and　has　already　subtly　entered　upon　her　efforts　to　thwart　the　affection　she　has　invited　in　him　for　her　daughter。

Caballuco；　what　shall　I　say　of　Caballuco？　He　seems　altogether　bad；　but　the　author　lets　one　imagine　that　this　cruel；　this　ruthless　brute　must　have　somewhere　about　him　traits　of　lovableness；　of　leniency；　though　he　never　lets　one　see　them。　His　gratitude　to　Dona　Perfecta；　even　his　murderous　devotion；　is　not　altogether　bad；　and　he　is　certainly　worse　than　nature　made　him；　when　wrought　upon　by　her　fury　and　the　suggestion　of　Don　Inocencio。　The　scene　where　they　work　him　up　to　rebellion　and　assassination　is　a　compendium　of　the　history　of　intolerance；　as　the　mean　little　conceited　city　of　Orbajosas　is　the　microcosm　of　bigoted　and　reactionary　Spain。


IV

I　have　called；　or　half…called；　this　book　tendencious；　but　in　a　certain　larger　view　it　is　not　so。　It　is　the　eternal　interest　of　passion　working　upon　passion；　not　the　temporary　interest　of　condition　antagonizing　condition；　which　renders　〃Dona　Perfecta〃　so　poignantly　interesting；　and　which　makes　its　tragedy　immense。　But　there　is　hope　as　well　as　despair　in　such　a　tragedy。　There　is　the　strange　support　of　a　bereavement　in　it；　the　consolation　of　feeling　that　for　those　who　have　suffered　unto　death；　nothing　can　harm　them　more；　that　even　for　those　who　have　inflicted　their　suffering　this　peace　will　soon　come。

〃Is　Perez　Galdos　a　pessimist？〃　asks　the　critic　Clarin。　〃No；　certainly；　but　if　he　is　not；　why　does　he　paint　us　sorrows　that　seem　inconsolable？　Is　it　from　love　of　paradox？　Is　it　to　show　that　his　genius；　which　can　do　so　much；　can　paint　the　shadow　lovelier　than　the　light？　Nothing　of　this。　Nothing　that　is　not　serious；　honest；　and　noble；　is　to　be　found　in　this　novelist。　Are　they　pessimistic；　those　ballads　of　the　North；　that　always　end　with　vague　resonances　of　woe？　Are　they　pessimists；　those　singers　of　our　own　land；　who　surprise　us　with　tears　in　the　midst　of　laughter？　Is　Nature　pessimistic；　who　is　so　sad　at　nightfall　that　it　seems　as　if　day　were　dying　forever？　。　。　。　The　sadness　of　art；　like　that　of　nature；　is　a　form　of　hope。　Why　is　Christianity　so　artistic？　Because　it　is　the　religion　of　sadness。〃


W。　D。　HOWELLS。




DONA　PERFECTA



CHAPTER　I

VILLAHORRENDA！　FIVE　MINUTES！

When　the　down　train　No。　65of　what　line　it　is　unnecessary　to　say　stopped　at　the　little　station　between　kilometres　171　and　172；　almost　all　the　second…and　third…class　passengers　remained　in　the　cars；　yawning　or　asleep；　for　the　penetrating　cold　of　the　early　morning　　did　not　invite　to　a　walk　on　the　unsheltered　platform。　The　only　first…class　passenger　on　the　train　alighted　quickly；　and　addressing　a　group　　of　the　employes　asked　them　if　this　was　the　Villahorrenda　station。

〃We　are　in　Villahorrenda；〃　answered　the　conductor　whose　voice　was　drowned　by　the　cackling　of　the　hens　which　were　at　that　moment　being　lifted　into　the　freight　car。　〃I　forgot　to　call　you；　Senor　de　Rey。　I　think　they　are　waiting　for　you　at　the　station　with　the　beasts。〃

〃Why；　how　terribly　cold　it　is　here！〃　said　the　traveller；　drawing　his　cloak　more　closely　about　him。　〃Is　there　no　place　in　the　station　where　I　could　rest　for　a　while；　and　get　warm；　before　undertaking　a　journey　on　horseback　through　this　frozen　country？〃

Before　he　had　finished　speaking　the　conductor；　called　away　by　the　urgent　duties　of　his　position；　went　off；　leaving　our　unknown　cavalier's　question　unanswered。　The　latter　saw　that　another　employe　was　coming　toward　him；　holding　a　lantern　in　his　right　hand；　that　swung　back　and　forth　as　he　walked；　casting　the　light　on　the　platform　of　the　station　in　a　series　of　zigzags；　like　those　described　by　the　shower　from　a　watering…pot。

〃Is　there　a　restaurant　or　a　bedroom　in　the　station　of　Villahorrenda？〃　said　the　traveller　to　the　man　with　the　lantern。

〃There　is　nothing　here；〃　answered　the　latter　brusquely；　running　toward　the　men　who　were　putting　the　freight　on　board　the　cars；　and　assuaging　them　with　such　a　volley　of　oaths；　blasphemies；　and　abusive　epithets　that　the　very　chickens；　scandalized　by　his　brutality；　protested　against　it　from　their　baskets。

〃The　best　thing　I　can　do　is　to　get　away　from　this　place　as　quickly　as　possible；〃　said　the　gentlemen　to　himself。　〃The　conductor　said　that　the　beasts　were　here。〃

Just　as　he　had　come　to　this　conclusion　he　felt　a　thin　hand　pulling　him　gently　and　respectfully　by　the　cloak。　He　turned　round　and　saw　a　figure　enveloped　in　a　gray　cloak；　and　out　of　whose　voluminous　folds　peeped　the　shrivelled　and　astute　countenance　of　a　Castilian　peasant。　He　looked　at　the　ungainly　figure；　which　reminded　one　of　the　black　poplar　among　trees；　he　observed　the　shrewd　eyes　that　shone　from　beneath　the　wide　brim　of　the　old　velvet　hat；　the　sinewy　brown　hand　that　grasped　a　green　switch；　and　the　broad　foot　that；　with　every　movement；　made　the　iron　spur　jingle。

〃Are　you　Senor　Don　Jose　de　Rey？〃　asked　the　peasant；　raising　his　hand　to　his　hat。

〃Yes；　and　you；　I　take　it；〃　answered　the　traveller　joyfully；　〃are　Dona　Perfecta's　servant；　who　have　come　to　the　station　to　meet　me　and　show　me　the　way　to　Orbajosa？〃

〃The　same。　Whenever　you　are　ready　to　start。　The　pony　runs　like　the　wind。　And　Senor　Don　Jose；　I　am　sure；　is　a　good　rider。　For　what　comes　by　race…？

〃Which　is　the　way　out？〃　asked　the　traveller；　with　impatience。　〃Come；　let　us　start；　senor？What　is　your　name？〃

〃My　name　is　Pedro　Lucas；〃　answered　the　man　of　the　gray　cloak；　again　making　a　motion　to　take　off　his　hat；　〃but　they　call　me　Uncle　Licurgo。　Where　is　the　young　gentleman's　baggage？〃

〃There　it　is？there　under　the　cloak。　There　are　three　pieces？two　portmanteaus　and　a　box　of　books　for　Senor　Don　Cayetano。　Here　is　the　check。〃

A　moment　later　cavalier　and　squire　found　themselves　behind　the　barracks　called　a　depot；　and　facing　a　road　which；　starting　at　this　point；　disappeared　among　the　neighboring　hills；　on　whose　naked　slopes　could　be　vaguely　distinguished　the　miserable　hamlet　of　Villahorrenda。　There　were　three　animals　to　carry　the　men　and　the　luggage。　A　not　ill…　looking　nag　was　destined　for　the　cavalier；　Uncle　Licurgo　was　to　ride　a　venerable　hack；　somewhat　loose　in　the　joints；　but　sure…footed；　and　the　mule；　which　was　to　be　led　by　a　stout　country　boy　of　active　limbs　and　fiery　blood；　was　to　carry　the　luggage。

Before　the　caravan　had　put　itself　in　motion　the　train　had　started；　and　was　now　creeping　along　the　road　with　the　lazy　deliberation　of　a　way　train；　awakening；　as　it　receded　in　the　distance；　deep　subterranean　echoes。　As　it　entered　the　tunnel　at　kilometre　172；　the　steam　issued　from　the　steam　whistle　with　a　shriek　that　resounded　through　the　air。　From　the　dark　mouth　of　the　tunnel　came　volumes　of　whitish　smoke；　a　succession　of　shrill　screams　like　the　blasts　of　a　trumpet　followed；　and　at　the　sound　of　its　stentorian　voice　villages；　towns；　the　whole　surrounding　country　awoke。　Here　a　cock　began　to　crow；　further　on　another。　Day　was　beginning　to　dawn。



CHAPTER　II

A　JOURNEY　IN　THE　HEART　OF　SPAIN

When　they　had　proceeded　some　distance　on　their　way　and　had　left　behind　them　the　hovels　of　Villahorrenda；　the　traveller；　who　was　young　and　handsome　spoke　thus：

〃Tell　me；　Senor　Solon…？

〃Licurgo；　at　your　service。〃

〃Senor　Licurgo；　I　mean。　But　I　was　right　in　giving　you　the　name　of　a　wise　legislator　of　antiquity。　Excuse　the　mistake。　But　to　come　to　the　point。　Tell　me；　how　is　my　aunt？〃

〃As　handsome　as　ever；〃　answered　the　peasant；　pushing　his　beast　forward　a　little。　〃Time　seems　to　stand　still　with　Senora　Dona　Perfecta。　They　say　that　God　gives　long　life　to　the　good；　and　if　that　is　so　that　angel　of　the　Lord　ought　to　live　a　thousand　years。　If　all　the　blessings　that　are　showered　on　her　in　this　world　were　feathers；　the　senora　would　need　no　other　wings　to　go　up　to　heaven　with。〃

〃And　my　cousin；　Senorita　Rosario？〃

〃The　senora　over　again！〃　said　the　peasant。　〃What　more　can　I　tell　you　of　Dona　Rosarito　but　that　that　she　is　the　living　image　of　her　mother？　You　will　have　a　treasure；　Senor　Don　Jose；　if　it　is　true；　as　I　hear；　that　you　have　come　to　be　married　to　her。　She　will　be　a　worthy　mate　for　you；　and　the　young　lady　will　have　nothing　to　complain　of；　either。　Between　Pedro　and　Pedro　the　difference　is　not　very　great。〃

〃And　Senor　Don　Cayetano？〃

〃Buried　in　his　books　as　usual。　He　has　a　library　bigger　than　the　cathedral；　and　he　roots　up　the　earth；　besides；　searching　for　stones　covered　with　fantastical　scrawls；　that　were　w