Traducción
Original
Capítulo XXXIV
Se emprende una conversación que no se acaba
Interrumpió a Arabela un criado que llegó a noticiarla la venida del barón. Carlota voló al encuentro de su padre. Arabela, menos viva, anduvo con lentitud y dio tiempo al caballero para hablar con ella algunos instantes más.
—Me persuado, señora –la dijo–, a que experimentáis una conmoción tierna cuantas veces leéis la historia del desdichado Alejandro: el espectáculo de la muerte que le preparaban era horroroso, es verdad, pero ¡cuán glorioso sufrirla por el objeto que adoraba y más sabiendo que la princesa Artemisa, lastimada de su suerte, le consagraría pesares y lágrimas! No le tengo lástima, porque, después de la dicha de poseer lo que se ama, no conozco otra mayor que la de morir por el mismo objeto.
Arabela, embelesada de oír un lenguaje tan conforme a su modo de pensar, miró al caballero con un modo y con una sonrisa que ponía patentes todos los atractivos de su persona.
—No podéis hablar –le dijo– más racionalmente y no tengo duda en que amáis algún objeto capaz de comunicaros sentimientos tan nobles.
—Confieso que mi corazón está sujeto con las ataduras del amor... Amo a una persona que reúne en sí todo lo más bello que sabe formar la naturaleza, pero solo me es permitido suspirar por ella en silencio.
—Pudiera no ser exacto el retrato que hacéis de la que amáis, porque los amantes no ven como los demás.
Cortose este diálogo por la llegada del barón a abrazar a su sobrina. Arabela lo tranquilizó sobre el cuidado del enfermo y lo llevó a su cuarto. Glanville recibió a su padre con la expresión más viva y afectuosa; le dio gracias de lo que por él hacía y riñó a su hermana por el susto que le había ocasionado. El padre, alegrísimo de encontrar a su hijo convaleciente, manifestó a Arabela cuán agradecido la estaba por el cuidado que había tenido de su salud. Nuestra heroína, creyendo que las gracias tenían por cimiento la orden de sanar que había dado a Glanville, se corrió y dijo luego:
—Os aseguro, tío mío, que debe tanto a la naturaleza como a mi benignidad y aun pudiera yo asegurar que no es tan obediente como algunas personas que pudiera nombrar.
Glanville, para atajar preguntas, desmenuzó a su padre los principios, progresos y fines de su mal, pero el barón, en habiendo escuchado a su hijo, preguntó a su sobrina por qué acusaba a su primo de desobediencia.
—¿Se ha rebelado contra los médicos? p. 120
—No, pero si hubiera ejecutado mis órdenes, menos hubiera sufrido.
—¿Tienen tus ordenes, sobrina mía, virtud para operar curaciones?
—No en general, pero como se trata de Glanville, es un caso particular.
—Me parece –dijo el anciano riéndose– que mi hijo te ha obedecido muy bien, pero temo que le des órdenes contrarias y así te hago responsable de su vida.
—¡Qué imperio tiene la hermosura! –dijo el caballero Jorge en un tono de íntima persuasión–. ¡Qué diestras son las mujeres para conciliar las cosas más opuestas! Si se las oye, no tienen culpa de las muertes de los que envían a la sepultura los pesares de no ser amados; sobreviene una calentura, puede desvanecerla sola una palabra; se rehúsa y el enfermo expira. No hay cosa más común que estos acaecimientos, pero no concibo cómo puede el corazón de una mujer ejercitar semejante tiranía sin que lo acosen los remordimientos.
Rieron mucho el barón y Carlota de la gravedad de Jorge y Glanville, aunque resentido de oír burlarse de Arabela, tuvo que morderse los labios, para no reírse. Solo Arabela no cayó en la burla y dio nuevos motivos al caballero para agradarla y divertirse.
—Recelo –le dijo Arabela– que sois de aquellos que llaman severidad lo que las mujeres honradas llaman decencia; sin duda no alcanzáis cuán ofensiva es una declaración indiscreta: nombradme un solo delincuente que no se haya hecho él mismo justicia. Si una sensibilidad demasiada causa enfermedades y aun muertes, ¿es, acaso, culpa de la dama ofendida? Es injusto atribuir al abuso de su poder un suceso que es la consecuencia de un delito.
—Vuestra elocuencia, señora, vuelve buenas todas las causas de que queréis encargaros, pero como soy interesado en desear la seguridad de mi sexo, permitidme que sostenga, que un hombre no merece ser aborrecido si tiene arte para ocultar su pasión.
—Pero luego que se atreve a declararla, sale de los límites del respeto y su presunción merece un rigoroso castigo.
—Si las mujeres (entiendo de las que hablamos) hiciesen distinción entre los que las adoran en silencio y los que no reconocen el poder de sus atractivos, se ahorrarían el disgusto de oír declaraciones ofensivas, pero cuando los cuidados, las atenciones, las ansias, los suspiros y, en fin, cuanto el amor más vivo puede expresar, no vale a un amante apasionado más que signos de indiferencia, debe presumir que su idioma mudo no se entiende, y me parece que entonces no tiene otro partido que tomar que el de declarar sus tormentos a la que los ocasiona y hacer sus esfuerzos para moverla a sensibilidad.
—Ese medio, señor, es el menos prudente que puede elegir, porque lejos de adelantar, atrasa sus progresos, se expone a perder la ocasión de ver a su amada, de admirarla y de recibir sus órdenes, y sacrifica una felicidad sólida a una incertidumbre, se muestra falto de conducta, de prudencia y aun de razón, y debe ser castigado, o como un loco o como un insolente.
FIN DEL TOMO PRIMERO
Chapter II
In which a very pleasing conversation is left unfinished.
As Arabella was in this part of her discourse, a servant came to inform her that Sir Charles Glanville was just alighted. Upon which Miss Glanville flew to receive her father; and Arabella, walking a little slower after her, gave Sir George an opportunity of holding a little longer conversation with her.
“I dare believe, madam,” said he, “when you read the story of the unfortunate Alexander, your fair eyes did not refuse to shed some tears at the barbarous and shameful death he was going to suffer. Yet I assure you, melancholy as his situation was, it was also very [220] glorious for him, since he had the sublime satisfaction of dying for the person he adored; and had the ravishing pleasure to know that his fate would draw tears from that lovely princess, for whom he sacrificed his life. Such a condition, madam, ought to be envied rather than pitied; for, next to the happiness of possessing the person one adores, certainly the glory of dying for her is most to be coveted.”
Arabella, pleasingly surprised to hear language so conformable to her own ideas, looked for a moment upon the baronet with a most enchanting complacency in her eyes.
“It must be confessed, sir,” said* she, “that you speak very rationally upon these matters; and by the tenderness and generosity of your sentiments, you give me cause to believe that your heart is prepossessed with some object worthy of inspiring them.”
Sir George, seeming as if he struggled to suppress a sigh:
“You are in the right, madam,” said he, “to suppose that if my heart be prepossessed with any object, it is with one who is capable of inspiring a very sublime passion; and I assure you if ever it submits to any fetters, they shall be imposed on me by the fairest person in the world—”
“Since love is not voluntary,” replied Arabella, smiling, “it may happen that your heart may be surprised by a meaner beauty than such a one as you describe. However, as a lover has always an extraordinary partiality for the beloved object, it is probable what you say may come to pass; and you may be [221] in love with the fairest person in the world, in your own opinion.”
They were now so near the house that Sir George could reply no other ways than by a very passionate glance, which Arabella did not observe, being in haste to pay her respects to her uncle, whom she met just going to Mr. Glanville. Her looks were directed to him. Sir Charles saluting her with great affection, they all went into Mr. Glanville’s chamber, who received his father with the utmost respect and tenderness, extremely regretting the trouble he had been at in taking a journey to the castle upon his account, and gently blaming his sister for her precipitancy in alarming him so soon.
Sir Charles, extremely overjoyed to find him so well recovered, would not allow him to blame Miss Glanville for what she had done; but addressing himself to his niece, he thanked her for the care she had taken of Mr. Glanville, in very obliging terms.p. 152
Arabella could not help blushing at her uncle’s compliment, supposing he thanked her for having restored her cousin to his health: “I assure you, sir,” said she, “Mr. Glanville is less obliged to my commands than to the goodness of his constitution for his recovery, and herein he was not so obedient as many persons I could name to him.”
Mr. Glanville, willing to prevent the company’s observation upon this speech, began to acquaint his father with the rise and progress of his distemper. But though the old gentleman listened with great attention to his [222] son while he was speaking, yet, not having lost a word of what Arabella had said, as soon as he was done he turned to his niece, and asked her how she could be so unjust as to accuse his son of disobedience, because he did not recover when she commanded him.
“Why, madam,” added he, “you want to carry your power farther than* ever any beauty did before you, since you pretend to make people sick and well whenever you please.”
“Really, sir,” replied Arabella, “I pretend to no more power than what I presume all others of my sex have upon the like occasions; and since nothing is more common than for a gentleman, though ever so sick, to recover in obedience to the commands of that person who has an absolute power over his life, I conceive I have a right to think myself injured if Mr. Glanville, contrary to mine, had thought proper to die—”
“Since,” said the old gentleman, smiling, “my son has so well obeyed your commands in recovering his health, I shall tremble, lest in obedience to a contrary command of yours, he should die, and deprive me of an heir; a misfortune which if it should happen, I should place to your account.”
“I assure you, sir,” said Arabella, very gravely, “I have too great an esteem for Mr. Glanville, to condemn him to so severe a punishment as death for light offences; and since it is not very probable that he will ever commit such crimes against me, as can be only expiated by his death, such as infidelity, disobedience [223] and the like, you have no reason to fear such a misfortune by my means.”
“Alas!” replied Sir George. “You beauties make very nice distinctions in these cases; and think if you do not directly command your lovers to die, you are no ways accountable for their death. And when a lover, as it often happens, dies through despair of ever being able to make himself beloved; or, being doomed to banishment, or silence, falls into a fever, from which nothing but kindness can recover him; and that being denied, he patiently expires. I say, when these things happen, as they certainly do every day, how can you hold yourselves guiltless of their deaths, which are apparently occasioned either by your scorn or insensibility?”
Sir Charles and Miss Glanville were extremely diverted at this speech of Sir George’s; and Mr. Glanville, though he would have wished he had been rallying any other person’s follies than his cousin’s, yet could not help smiling at the solemn accent in which he delivered himself.
Arabella, mightily pleased with his manner of talking, was resolved to furnish him with more occasions of diverting the company at her expense:p. 153
“I see,” answered she, “you are one of those persons who call a just decorum, which all ladies, who love glory as they ought to do, are obliged to preserve, by the name of severity. But pray, what would you have a lady do, whom an importunate lover presumes to declare his passion to? You know it is not permitted [224] us to listen to such discourses; and you know also, whoever is guilty of such an offence, merits a most rigorous punishment. Moreover, you find that when a sentence of banishment or silence is pronounced upon them, these unhappy criminals are so conscious of the justice of their doom that they never murmur against their judge who condemns them; and therefore, whatever are their fates in consequence of that anger they have incurred, the ladies, thus offended, ought not to be charged with it as any cruel exertion of their power.”
“Such eloquence as yours, madam,” replied Sir George, “might defend things yet more unjustifiable. However, you must give me leave, as being interested in the safety of my sex, still to be of opinion that no man ought to be hated because he adores a beautiful object, and consecrates all his moments to her service.”
“Questionless,” resumed Arabella, “he will not be hated, while, out of the respect and reverence he bears her, he carefully conceals his passion from her knowledge; but as soon as ever he breaks through the bounds which that respect prescribes him, and lets her understand his true sentiments, he has reason to expect a most rigorous sentence, since he certainly, by that presumption, has greatly deserved it.”
“If the ladies,” replied Sir George, “were more equitable, and would make some distinction between those who really love them in a passionate and respectful silence, and others who do not feel the power of their charms, they might spare themselves the trouble of hearing [225] what so mortally offends them. But when a lady sees a man every day, who, by his looks, sighs, and solicitude to please her, by his numberless services, and constant attendance on her, makes it evident that his soul is possessed with a violent passion for her. I say, when a lady sees, and yet will not see, all this, and persists in using a passionate adorer with all the indifference due to a man wholly insensible of the power of her charms, what must he do in such a mortifying situation, but make known his torments to her that occasions them, in order to prevail upon her to have some sense of what he does and feels hourly for her sake?”
“But since he gains nothing by the discovery of his passion,” resumed Arabella. “But, on the contrary, loses the advantages he was before possessed of, which were very great, since he might see and discourse with his mistress every day; and, haply, have the honour to do her a great many petty services, and receive some of her commands; all these advantages he loses when he declares he loves. And, truly, I think a man who is so unwise as to hazard a certain happiness for a very improbable hope, deserves to be punished, as well for his folly as presumption; and, upon both these accounts, banishment is not too rigorous a sentence.”