Traducción
Original
Capítulo VII
Contradicciones bastante felizmente conciliadas
El jardinero principal había tomado un mozo de bonita figura para que le ayudase en su trabajo. Había servido en muchas buenas casas y, sobre ser inteligente, se hacía reparar por su urbanidad y cortesía10.
Paseándose una tarde Arabela, tuvo ocasión de observarlo y, notando una cierta finura en su porte, se humanizó hasta preguntarle. La viveza de sus respuestas, algunas frases respetuosas, y con más delicadeza expresadas que por los otros domésticos, dieron lugar a muchas reflexiones. Descubriéronse evidentemente las señales de una educación distinguida y se pasó al instante desde la idea de que aquel jardinero era un hombre bien nacido a otra más singular. Fortificáronse las sospechas y en poquísimo tiempo se fijó la persuasión de que era un amante disfrazado.
Arabela examinó al joven con más cuidado y la pareció que no estaba acostumbrado al trabajo, que buscaba la soledad, que se hallaba frecuentemente en las alamedas por donde ella paseaba, que la miraba siempre con admiración, que suspiraba respondiendo a sus preguntas y que solía también, sentado bajo de un árbol, meditar tristemente en alguna cosa seria. Supúsose también de que había encontrado un collar de perlas que ella había perdido y que lo había hecho objeto oculto de su adoración. Pero la cifra de su nombre no se veía grabada sobre los árboles con emblemas misteriosos ni tampoco sorprendía al desgraciado amante junto a los arroyuelos aumentando la corriente con sus lágrimas, porque, a pesar de lo riguroso* de su suerte, gozaba una salud muy robusta.
La conciliación de estas ideas era algo embarazosa, pero Arabela, que sabía concordar las cosas más disparatadas, juzgaba que el temor de ser descubierto era la causa de no tomar a los árboles por confidentes, que se entregaba a su dolor de noche y, en fin, que la bondad de su temperamento le prestaba fuerzas para resistir a los pesares. Sin embargo, notábase un poco más pálido que acostumbraba y esto quería decir que no estaba distante la confesión de su pasión amorosa.
Arabela no se sentía dispuesta a aprobar el amor de aquel desconocido y formaba de antemano el proyecto de desterrarlo de su presencia, al mismo tiempo que la dolían los rigores a que la precisaba su obligación. p. 53
—¡Qué desventurada soy –dijo un día a su confidenta, viendo pasar a Eduardo, que así se llamaba el mozo jardinero– en verme causa de una pasión que envilece a ese incógnito ilustre! Sí, Lucía, ese Eduardo, a quien tienes por uno de los menores criados de mi padre, es un hombre de calidad que, bajo un vestido humilde, no piensa en más que en la felicidad de mirarme... Pero, ¿a qué viene esa admiración? ¿Es posible que no lo has adivinado o que no se ha descubierto a ti? ¿No lo has visto nunca con su fiel escudero (porque seguramente lo tiene)? ¿No habla de mí a menudo? Y, en fin, ¿no te ha dejado ver, por distracción, algunas preciosas joyas?
—A fe mía, señora, que siempre lo he tenido por un criado, pero ahora me abrís los ojos: en efecto, su aire no es común y los cuentos que nos refiere en la cocina son mejores que los de los demás. Nunca le he oído hablar de vos más que una vez y fue el día de su llegada: preguntó si erais la hija del señor marqués y dijo que parecíais un ángel en hermosura. En cuanto a joyas preciosas, no sé que tenga ninguna; solo, sí, usa de un reloj de plata que, a decir verdad, habla a favor de su nacimiento y por lo que hace a escudero os protesto que no le he visto ninguno.
Dada esta puntual respuesta, preguntó a su vez Lucía cómo había de comportarse si Eduardo la entregaba alguna carta.
—No la tomarás por más regalos que te ofrezcan y por más súplicas que te hagan: ya sabes cuán fatal pudo serme mi generosidad... Si ese amante se me descubriere, pensaré en el modo como he de tratarlo.
Así hablaba Arabela con su criada fiel cuando se oyeron unas voces a cierta distancia; dirigiose hacia allá y vio al jardinero mayor dando de garrotazos al disfrazado héroe, que sufría la corrección con admirable paciencia. Enojose de aquella vileza y contuvo los golpes con una seña de autoridad; Eduardo aprovechó aquel entreacto para huir.
—¿Qué delito ha cometido ese joven –preguntó Arabela– para tratarlo tan cruelmente? ¿Sabes que ese con quien usas de tales libertades puede?... Si no está diestro en el trabajo, debes usar con él de indulgencia.
—No es por falta de habilidad en el oficio por lo que lo castigo, señora: el tuno hace bien lo que hace cuando quiere... pero he descubierto...
—¡Descubierto! ¿Y lo maltratas así?... ¡Pues cómo! ¡Su estado no ha...!
—¡Su estado! Mucho tiempo ha que lo sospecho de tener malas intenciones, he acechado muy de cerca sus pasos y le he visto ir al estanque...
—¡Ay, cielos! –exclamó Lucía mirando a su ama, cuyo corazón palpitaba de susto–. ¡A echarse iba en él!
—No, no –repuso el jardinero, soltando una carcajada–. Iba el pícaro a sacar los mejores peces; es un gran pescador, yo le aseguro que, a no ser por las órdenes del ama, yo le hubiera puesto como merecía.
—¡Ea, callad! –dijo Arabela irritadísima–. Acusaciones semejantes son muy groseras para creídas. p. 54
Avergonzada de aquella escena, se retiró a la alameda más sombría del jardín y en ella se paseó largo rato verdaderamente consternada. Lucía no alcanzaba a conciliar lo que su señora la había dicho de Eduardo con lo que acababa de pasar; necesitaba instrucción para salir de sus dudas y la esperaba. Arabela se veía entre mil dificultades para encontrar a su héroe; pero como estaba dotada de maravillosa penetración y tenía un talento pasmoso para concordar las relaciones, examinó las circunstancias, las vio bajo todos los aspectos posibles, sacó mil consecuencias y, al fin, halló tanto misterio en la conducta del jardinero que quedó, más que nunca, convencida a que era un gran personaje obligado por el amor que la profesaba a vivir en tanta humillación.
No pudo Lucía guardar más tiempo silencio y habló, sin precaución, de robo y de paliza. Estas palabras mal sonantes disgustaron a Arabela.
—¿Es imaginable –replicó muy secamente– que un hombre de calidad vaya a robar peces? ¡Ay! ¡Él iba a realizar su cruel designio, si la dichosa brutalidad del jardinero mayor no se lo hubiera impedido!
—Pero, señora, Woodbind dijo que estaban ya los peces fuera del agua; quisiera yo saber qué iba a hacer de ellos.
—¿Me mortificarás siempre los oídos con expresiones desagradables? Dígote, criatura extravagante y obstinada, que ese infeliz quiso quitarse una vida cuyo peso lo agobia y, advirtiendo que lo observaban, sacó los peces para ocultar su intención. ¿Pudo él imaginar que habían de sospecharlo de una bajeza? No, Lucía, no: una alma grande no se detiene en ideas inferiores a ella.
—Pues siendo así, ama mía, deberíais estorbarle que reiterara la misma tentativa, ordenándole que viviese.
—Haré lo que convenga... y al mismo tiempo que me ocupe en su alivio, no olvidaré lo que me debo.
Estaba persuadida Arabela a que Hervey no hubiera intentado el rapto sin la carta que ella le escribió. Determinada, pues, a ser más circunspecta, no sabía cómo librar a sus amantes, en lo venidero, de la desesperación. Disminuyéronse sus inquietudes, no obstante, cuando supo que el mozo jardinero había dejado el servicio de su padre.
Chapter VII
In which some contradictions are very happily reconciled.
The marquis’s head gardener had received a young fellow into his master’s service, who had lived in several families of distinction. He had a good face, was tolerably genteel; and having an understanding something above his condition, joined to a great deal of second-hand [28] politeness, which he had contracted while he lived at London, he appeared a very extraordinary person among the rustics who were his fellow servants.
Arabella, when she walked in the garden, had frequent opportunities of seeing this young man, whom she observed with a very particular attention. His person and air had something, she thought, very distinguishing. When she condescended to speak to him about any business he was employed in, she took notice that his answers were framed in a language vastly superior to his condition;* and the respect he paid her had quite another air from that of the awkward civility of the other servants.
Having discerned so many marks of a birth far from being mean, she easily passed from an opinion that he was a gentleman, to a belief that he was something more. And every new sight of him adding strength to her suspicions, she remained, in a little time, perfectly convinced that he was some person of quality, who, disguised in the habit of a gardener, had introduced himself into her father’s service, in order to have an opportunity of declaring a passion to her, which must certainly be very great, since it had forced him to assume an appearance so unworthy of his noble extraction.
Wholly possessed with this thought, she set herself to observe him more narrowly, and soon found out that he went very awkwardly about his work; that he sought opportunities of being alone; that he threw himself in her way as often as he could, and gazed on her very attentively. She sometimes fancied she saw him [29] endeavour to smother a sigh when he answered her any question about his work; once saw him leaning against a tree with his hands crossed upon his breast; and, having lost a string of small pearls, which she remembered he had seen her threading as she sat in one of the arbours,* was persuaded he had taken it up, and kept it for the object of his secret adoration.
She often wondered, indeed, that she did not find her name carved on the trees, with some mysterious expressions of love; that he was never discovered lying along the side of one of the little rivulets,* increasing the stream with his tears; nor, for three months that he had lived there, had ever been sick of a fever caused by his grief and the constraint he put upon himself in not declaring his passion. But she considered again that his fear of being discovered kept him from amusing himself with making the trees bear the records of his secret thoughts, or of indulging his melancholy in any manner expressive of the condition of his soul; and, as for his not being sick, his youth and the strength of his constitution, might, even for a longer time, bear him up against the assaults of a fever. But he appeared much thinner and paler than he used to be; and she concluded, therefore, that he must in time sink under the violence of his passion, or else be forced to declare it to her, which she considered as a very great misfortune; for, not finding in herself any disposition to approve his love, she must necessarily banish him from her presence, for fear he should have the presumption to hope [30] that time might do anything in his favour. And it was possible also that the sentence she would be obliged to pronounce might either cause his death, or force him to commit some extravagant action, which would discover him to her father, who would, perhaps, think her guilty of holding a secret correspondence with him.p. 55
These thoughts perplexed her so much that, hoping to find some relief by unburdening her mind to Lucy, she told her all her uneasiness. “Ah!” said she to her, looking upon Edward, who had just passed them. “How unfortunate do I think myself in being the cause of that passion which makes this illustrious unknown wear away his days in so shameful an obscurity! Yes, Lucy,” pursued she, “that Edward, whom you regard as one of my father’s menial servants, is a person of sublime quality, who submits to this disguise only to have an opportunity of seeing me every day. But why do you seem so surprised? Is it possible that you have not suspected him to be what he is? Has he never unwittingly made any discovery of himself? Have you not surprised him in discourse with his faithful squire, who certainly lurks hereabouts to receive his commands, and is haply the confidant of his passion? Has he never entertained you with any conversation about me? Or have you never seen any valuable jewels in his possession by which you suspected him to be not what he appears?”
“Truly, madam,” replied Lucy, “I never took him for anybody else but a simple gardener; but now you open my eyes, methinks I can find I have been strangely mistaken; for he does [31] not look like a man of low degree, and he talks quite in another manner from our servants. I never heard him indeed speak of your ladyship, but once; and that was, when he first saw you walking in the garden; he asked our John if you were not the marquis’s daughter, and he said you were as beautiful as an angel. As for fine jewels, I never saw any; and I believe he has none; but he has a watch, and that looks as if he was something, madam. Nor do I remember to have seen him talk with any stranger that looked like a squire.”
Lucy, having thus, with her usual punctuality,* answered every question her lady put to her, proceeded to ask her what she should say if he should beg her to give her a letter as the other gentleman had done.
“You must by no means take it,” replied Arabella. “My compassion had before like to have been fatal to me. If he discovers his quality to me, I shall know in what manner to treat him.”
They were in this part of their discourse, when a noise they heard at some distance made Arabella bend her steps to the place from whence it proceeded; and, to her infinite amazement, saw the head gardener, with a stick he had in his hand, give several blows to the concealed hero, who suffered the indignity with admirable patience.
Shocked at seeing a person of sublime quality* treated so unworthily, she called out to the gardener to hold his hand, who immediately obeyed; and Edward, seeing the young lady advance, sneaked off, with an air very different from an Oroondates.
[32] “For what crime, pray,” said Arabella, with a stern aspect, “did you treat the person I saw with you so cruelly? He whom you take such unbecoming liberties with, may possibly. But again I ask you, what has he done? You should make some allowance for his want of skill, in the abject employment he is in at present.”
“It is not for his want of skill, madam,” said the gardener, “that I corrected him; he knows his business very well if he would mind it; but, madam, I have discovered him—”
“Discovered him, do you say?” interrupted Arabella. “And has the knowledge of his condition not been able to prevent such usage? Or rather, has it been the occasion of his receiving it?”p. 56
“His conditions are very bad, madam,” returned the gardener, “and I am afraid are such as will one day prove the ruin of body and soul too. I have for some time suspected he had evil designs* in his head; and just now watched him to the fishpond, and prevented him from—”
“O* dear!” interrupted Lucy, looking pitifully on her lady, whose fair bosom heaved with compassion. “I warrant he was going to make away with himself.”
“No,” resumed the gardener, smiling at the mistake, “he was only going to make away with some of the carp, which the rogue had caught, and intended, I suppose, to sell; but I threw them into the water again; and if your ladyship had not forbid me, I would have drubbed him soundly for his pains.”
[33] “Fie! Fie!”* interrupted Arabella, out of breath with shame and vexation. “Tell me no more of these idle tales.”
Then, hastily walking on to hide the blushes which this strange accusation of her illustrious lover had raised in her face, she continued for some time in the greatest perplexity imaginable.
Lucy, who followed her, and could not possibly reconcile what her lady had been telling her concerning Edward, with the circumstance of his stealing the carp, ardently wished to hear her opinion of this matter; but, seeing her deeply engaged with her own thoughts, she would not venture to disturb her.
Arabella indeed had been in such a terrible consternation that it was some time before she even reconciled appearances to herself; but, as she had a most happy facility* in accommodating every incident to her own wishes and conceptions, she examined this matter so many different ways, drew so many conclusions, and fancied so many mysteries in the most indifferent actions of the supposed noble unknown that she remained, at last, more than ever confirmed in the opinion that he was some great personage, whom her beauty had forced to assume an appearance unworthy of himself, when Lucy, no longer able to keep silence, drew off her attention from those pleasing images, by speaking of the carp-stealing affair again.
Arabella, whose confusion returned at that disagreeable sound, charged her, in an angry tone, never to mention so injurious a suspicion [34] anymore:
“For, in fine,” said she to her, “do you imagine a person of his rank could be guilty of stealing carp? Alas!” pursued she, sighing. “He had, indeed, some fatal design; and, doubtless, would have executed it, had not this fellow so luckily prevented him.”
“But Mr. Woodbind, madam,” said Lucy, “saw the carp in his hand. I wonder what he was going to do with them.”
“Still,” resumed Arabella, extremely chagrined,* “still will you wound my ears with that horrid sound? I tell you, obstinate and foolish wench, that this unhappy man went thither to die; and if he really caught the fish, it was to conceal his design from Woodbind. His great mind could not suggest to him that it was possible he might be suspected of a baseness like that this ignorant fellow accused him of; therefore he took no care about it, being wholly possessed by his despairing thoughts.”
“However, madam,” said Lucy, “your ladyship may prevent his going to the fishpond again, by laying your commands upon him to live.”p. 57
“I shall do all that I ought,” answered Arabella, “but my care for the safety of other persons must not make me forget what I owe to my own.”
As she had always imputed Mr. Hervey’s fancied attempt to carry her away, to the letter she had written to him, upon which he had probably founded his hopes of being pardoned for it, she resolved to be more cautious for the future in giving such instances of her compassion; and was at a great loss in what manner to comfort her despairing lover, without raising expectations she had no inclination to confirm. [35] But she was delivered from her perplexity a few days after,* by the news of his having left the marquis’s service, which she attributed to some new design he had formed to obtain her; and Lucy, who always thought as her lady did, was of the same opinion, though it was talked among the servants that Edward feared a discovery of more tricks, and resolved not to stay till he was disgracefully dismissed.
icondition] Social position.
iiarbours] obs. A floral or herbal garden.
iiirivulets] A stream.
ivpunctuality] obs. Meticulousness about behaviour or etiquette.
vof sublime quality] of quality 1752 (1st).
vievil designs] bad designs 1752 (1st).
viiO] An interjection expressing appeal, surprise, lament, etc. depending on the intonation.
viiifie] arch. Used to express disgust or outrage.
ixfacility] faculty 1752 (1st).
xchagrined] Disgruntled.
xiperplexity a few days after] perplexity by the news 1752 (1st).