The Torrent | Page 9

frequenting the circles of "serious" people now, had made friends with
the alcalde and was talking all the time of the great need for getting all
"decent" folk together to take the "rabble" in hand!
"Ambition is pecking at him," the old man gleefully remarked to his
daughter-in-law. "Let him alone, woman; he'll get there, he'll get there...
That's the way I like to see him."
Ramón began by winning a seat in the Ayuntamiento, and soon was an
outstanding figure there. The least objection to his views he regarded as
a personal insult; he would transfer debates in session out into the
streets and settle them there with threats and fisticuffs. His greatest
glory was to have his enemies say of him:
"Look out for that Ramón ... He's a tough proposition."
Along with all this combativeness, he sought to win friends by a lavish

hand that was his father's torment. He "did favors," assured a living,
that is, to every loafer and bully in town. He was ready to be "touched"
by anyone who could serve, in tavern and café, as advertising agent of
his rising fame.
And he rose rapidly, in fact. The old folks who had pushed him forward
with influence and counsel soon found themselves left far behind. In a
short time he had become alcalde; his prestige outgrew the limits of the
city, spread over the whole district, and eventually reached the capital
of the province itself. He got able-bodied men exempted from military
service; he winked at corruption in the city councils that backed him,
although the perpetrators deserved to go to prison; he saw to it that the
constabulary was not too energetic in running down the roders, the
"wanderers," who, for some well-placed shot at election time, would be
forced to flee to the mountains. No one in the whole country dared
make a move without the previous consent of don Ramón, whom his
adherents always respectfully called their quefe, their "chief."
Old Brull lived long enough to see Ramón reach the zenith of his fame.
That scallawag was realizing the old man's dream: the conquest of the
city, ruling over men where his father had gotten only money! And, in
addition don Jaime lived to see the perpetuation of the Brull dynasty
assured by the birth of a grandson, Rafael, the child of a couple who
had never loved each other, but were united only by avarice and
ambition.
Old Brull died like a saint. He departed this life with the consolation of
all the last sacraments. Every cleric in the city helped to waft his soul
heavenward with clouds of incense at the solemn obsequies. And,
though the rabble--the political opponents of the son, that is--recalled
those Wednesdays long before when the flock from the orchards would
come to let itself be fleeced in the old Shylock's office, all safe and
sane people--people who had something in this world to lose--mourned
the death of so worthy and industrious a man, a man who had risen
from the lowest estate and had finally been able to accumulate a fortune
by hard work, honest hard work!
In Rafael's father there still remained much of the wild student who had

caused so many tongues to wag in his youthful days. But his doings
with peasant girls were hushed up now; fear of the cacique's power
stifled all gossip; and since, moreover, affairs with such lowly women
cost very little money, doña Bernarda pretended to know nothing about
them. She did not love her husband much. She was leading that narrow,
self-centered life of the country woman, who feels that all her duties are
fulfilled if she remains faithful to her mate and keeps saving money.
By a noteworthy anomaly, she, who was so stingy, so thrifty, ready to
start a squabble on the public square in defense of the family money
against day-laborers or middlemen, was tolerance itself toward the
lavish expenditures of her husband in maintaining his political
sovereignty over the region.
Every election opened a new breach in the family fortune. Don Ramón
would receive orders to carry his district for some non-resident, who
might not have lived there more than a day or two. So those who
governed yonder in Madrid had ordered--and orders must be obeyed. In
every town whole muttons would be set turning over the fires. Tavern
wine would flow like water. Debts would be cancelled and fistfulls of
pesetas would be distributed among the most recalcitrant, all at don
Ramón's expense of course. And his wife, who wore a calico wrapper
to save on clothes and stinted so much on food that there was hardly
anything left for the servants to eat, would be arrayed in splendor when
the day for the contest came around, ready in