The Three-Cornered Hat

by Pedro Antonio de Alarcon

  “Have no fear of that!” answered Weasel. “Señor Juan Lopez has much to fear, and as soon as he sees your Lordship’s signature he will do all I tell him. He owes at least a thousand fanegas of corn to the Royal Granary and as much again to the Church Granary! This last debt is quite illegal since he’s no poor widow or labouring man entitled to receive wheat without interest or charges, but a gambler, a drunkard, a man without shame, a great wencher who has scandalized his whole district! And that man exercises authority! But that’s the way of the world!”

  “I told you to hold your tongue! You’re distracting me!” shouted the Corregidor. “Now let’s get to business,” he soon added in a changed tone. “It’s a quarter past seven… The first thing you have to do is to go to the house and tell her ladyship not to expect me to dinner or to bed either. Tell her that tonight I shall be at work right up to the curfew hour, and after that I shall be going forth with you on a secret watch to apprehend certain malefactors. At any rate, see that your story is good enough to send her to bed without a doubt in the world! On the way back, tell the other bailiff to bring my supper… I dare not face her ladyship tonight. She knows me so well that she could read my very thoughts. Charge the cook to set out some of the honey fritters she made today, and tell young Juan to go to the tavern and fetch me half a pint of white wine. And to be sure that nobody sees him. Then off with you directly to the village, which you should reach at half-past eight.”

  “I’ll be there at eight sharp!” Weasel cried.

  “Don’t contradict me!” roared the Corregidor, again remembering his dignity.

  Weasel bowed.

  “We said,” the other went on, his tone again good-tempered, “that at eight sharp you’ll be at the village. From the village it will be – hm, I think it will be half a league.”

  “A short one.”

  “Don’t interrupt me!”

  The Weasel bowed again.

  “A short one,” went on the Corregidor. “So therefore… do you think that by ten o’clock?…”

  “Before ten o’clock! At half past ten your Worship can knock on the door of the mill with perfect security!”

  “What’s this! Don’t tell me what I have to do! Now then – you will be?…”

  “I shall be everywhere… But my usual post will be the little ravine. Ah, I nearly forgot! Your Worship should go on foot and carry no lantern…”

  “The devil a need there is for all this advice! Do you think this is the first time I’ve had an out-of-town adventure?”

  “I’m sorry, your Worship… Ah, another thing. Don’t knock at the great door opening on to the stone courtyard but at the little door which is over the millstream…”

  “Over the millstream? Is there another door there? Why, that’s something I’ve never noticed myself!”

  “Yes, sir, the little millstream door leads right to the sleeping quarters of the Miller and his lady… and Tio Lucas never goes in or out by that door. So that, even if he did come back sooner than expected…”

  “I see, I see… Don’t keep dinning things in my ear!”

  “One last thing! Be sure your Worship flits away before sunrise. That at present happens at six…”

  “Another needless piece of advice! At five I shall be back in my own house… But we have talked enough! Out of my sight now!”

  “Well then, sir – good fortune to your Worship!” exclaimed the Alguacil, at the same time extending the palm of his hand sideways while he gazed up at the ceiling.

  The Corregidor dropped a peseta in the hand and Weasel vanished as if by magic.

  “By ***!” muttered the Corregidor after a moment. “I forgot to tell that windbag to have them bring me a pack of cards! It would have helped me while away the time till half-past nine, seeing whether I could play out a game of solitaire!…”

  15

  A Plain Prose Farewell

  It was about nine o’clock that night when Tio Lucas and Señora Frasquita, all the chores of mill and household finished, ate a supper of meat fried with tomatoes, and a few of the grapes that were left in the famous basket, washed down with a little wine and a great deal of laughter at the Corregidor’s expense. Then the couple looked long at each other across the table like people well content with God and themselves. A kiss passed between them, then one said, “Come, let’s go up to bed. Tomorrow will be another day.”

  Just then two heavy, insistent knocks sounded on the outer door of the mill. Husband and wife eyed each other in alarm. Never before had anyone knocked at their door at such an hour.

  “I’ll go and see…” the stout-hearted Frasquita began, taking a step towards the courtyard.

  “Stay where you are! This is my affair!” Lucas spoke with such authority that Frasquita at once obeyed. “I said you were not to go out,” he added sharply as the obstinate woman was about to follow him. Obediently she stayed where she was.

  “Who is it?” Tio Lucas demanded from the middle of the courtyard.

  “The Law!” a voice from the other side of the door answered.

  “What law?”

  “The Law of the district. Open in the name of the Señor Alcalde!”

  “You mean ‘Open in the name of that drunkard the Alcalde’!” said the Miller drawing back the bolt.

  “The same!” the voice answered. “I bring a written sum­mons from his Worship. A very good evening to you, Tio Lucas…” This greeting was added by Tonuelo as he came through the open door, his tone now less officious, gruff, and pompous, almost a different man’s.

  “God keep you, Tonuelo!” said the Miller. “Let’s see the summons you have there. Master Juan Lopez might have picked a different and more suitable time for calling on respectable citizens! But, of course, you’re to blame! It’s plain to see you’ve been tippling in all the little farmhouses on the road here. Would you like a glass of something?”

  “No, señor. There’s no time for a glass of anything. You must come with me at once. Read the summons!”

  “Come with you, eh?” Tio Lucas took the paper from him and turned into the house. “Let me look. Frasquita, give us a light!”

  Frasquita put down something she was holding and took an oil lamp down from its hook. The Miller caught a glimpse of the object his wife had dropped and recognized the trumpet-mouth of his huge blunderbuss which loaded bullets of half a pound weight or more. He gave her a look full of tender appreciation and took her face in his hands. “What a woman you are!” Frasquita, pale but cool as a marble statue, held up the lamp in her two fingers, her wrist perfectly steady, and, very matter-of-fact, she said, “Read it then.”

  The summons ran: “For the better service of His Majesty the King, our Liege Lord, (whom God preserve), I warn Lucas Fernandez, Miller of these parts, that as soon as he receives the present summons he shall appear before my Worship offering no excuse whatever; and I direct him that by reason of the matter’s being most confidential he communicate it to no man; and all this on pain of the customary forfeits in the event of disobedience.”

  The summons ended: “The Alcalde – Juan Lopez.” And there was a cross instead of a seal.

  “Now see here – what on earth does this summons mean?” Tio Lucas asked the Alguacil.

  “I don’t know,” Tonuelo answered. He was a thorough countryman, about thirty years old, with sharp, irregular features that suggested the thief and cutthroat and were the worst possible recommendation. “I think it’s a kind of enquiry into some witchcraft or coining. You are being called as an expert witness. But, to be sure, I don’t know about the details. Master Juan Lopez will explain it more fully.”

  “Very well, then,” said the Miller. “Tell him I’ll come tomorrow.”

  “No! No, master! You are to come right now without a mo­ment’s delay! That is the order given me by Master Alcalde.”

  There was a moment of silence. Fire see
med to dart from Frasquita’s eyes. Tio Lucas kept his on the ground as if searching for something. “You will grant me, at any rate,” he said at last, “time to go to the stable and saddle an ass…”

  “The devil I will!” Tonuelo shook his head. “Anyone can do a half-league journey on foot! The night’s a fair one, there’s a moon, and—”

  “I noticed it had risen. But my feet are all swollen up—”

  “Then lose no time! I’ll help you saddle the beast.”

  “So, you’re afraid I’ll run away?”

  “I’m afraid of nothing, Tio Lucas,” answered Tonuelo with a brazenly cool look. “I am the Law.” He rested his arms on his hips, allowing through the gaping ends of his shaggy cape a glimpse of the fowling piece he carried under it.

  “Tonuelo,” said Frasquita. “Seeing that you are going to the stable – in the performance of your legal duty – will you be good enough to saddle the other ass as well?”

  “For whom?” asked her husband.

  “For myself! I’m going with you.”

  “Out of the question, Señora Frasquita!” Tonuelo made a short, vigorous gesture. “My orders were to fetch your husband – nothing more. And to prevent you from coming after us. My very neck depends upon it! In those very terms I was charged by Master Juan Lopez. Come, let’s be off, Tio Lucas!” He moved towards the door.

  “This is a mighty queer business,” muttered the Miller, not attempting to follow for the moment.

  “Very!” agreed Frasquita.

  “There’s something behind this – of that I’m sure…” Tio Lucas went on muttering to himself in a tone that Tonuelo could not hear.

  “Do you want me to go to the city,” whispered Frasquita, “and inform the Corregidor what is happening?”

  “No!” Tio Lucas’s voice rose, “Don’t do that!”

  “Then what do you want me to do?” insisted Frasquita.

  “Do? Look at me!” His voice and look reminded her that he had once been a soldier. Their eyes held each other in silence a while and they drew so much reassurance from the calm steadfastness and strength which their hearts communicated to each other that in the end their shoulders began shaking and they burst out laughing.

  Then Tio Lucas lit another light and made off for the stable, ironically flinging at Tonuelo as he brushed past him: “Come on, man! Come and help me – if you’ll be so good!” Tonuelo turned after him, whistling a tune between his teeth.

  A few minutes later Tio Lucas set off, mounted on a fine she-ass, with Tonuelo bringing up the rear. The farewell exchanges of husband and wife were of the briefest.

  Tio Lucas: “Lock up securely now!”

  Frasquita, making good use of key, bolt, and bar: “Keep yourself wrapped up – it’s chilly weather!”

  No word more of goodbye, not a kiss, embrace, or even a look, for none was needed.

  16

  A Bird of Ill Omen

  Let us too go along with Tio Lucas.

  They had travelled nearly a mile without a single word, the Miller on the ass and the Alguacil urging it on with his staff of office, when they sighted ahead of them, at the crest of a rise in the road, a shadow like that of a huge bird advancing upon them.

  This shadow stood out sharply against the sky, lit up by the moonlight which outlined it with such brilliant clarity that the Miller at once exclaimed:

  “Tonuelo, that’s Weasel with his three-cornered hat and wiry legs!”

  Before the other could reply, the shadow, anxious no doubt to avoid meeting them, swerved away from the road and began rapidly travelling across country as if it had been a weasel in reality.

  “I can’t see anybody.” After a long pause Tonuelo’s answer was spoken with the most natural air in the world.

  “Neither can I,” replied Tio Lucas.

  And the suspicion which had sprung to his distrustful mind in the mill began to take definite form.

  “This little journey of mine,” he told himself, “is a love ruse of the Corregidor’s. The avowal I heard this afternoon from the top of the trellis proves the old dodderer can’t wait any longer. Doubtless he is paying a return visit to the mill tonight, and with that in view has begun by getting me out of the way. However, what of it? Frasquita is Frasquita! She won’t open that door – not if they set fire to the house, she won’t! No indeed, and, what’s more, even if she did, even if the Corregidor succeeded in taking my good lass in by some trick or other, the old rascal’d only come out of it all with a flea in his ear! Frasquita is Frasquita! For all that,” he added a moment later, “I’d better be back home tonight as soon as I can!”

  At this point they arrived at the village and made for the house of his worship the Alcalde.

  17

  A Homespun Alcalde

  The worthy juan lopez, who both in his private character and his public office was tyranny, ferocity, and pride personified when he had to do with his inferiors, was nevertheless pleased at that hour, having finished official business and matters relating to his farm, and administered the daily hiding to his wife, to drink a cantaro of wine in company with the Secretary and the Sacristan. This activity had already been proceeding for half the night when the Miller made his appearance in the company.

  “Hallo, Tio Lucas,” said Master Lopez, giving his head a scratch to stimulate its inventiveness. “And how are you? Secretary, pour a glass of wine for Tio Lucas! And Señora Frasquita? Is she as lovely as ever? It’s such a long time since I saw her! Gad, though! How excellently the corn is ground nowadays! Rye bread tastes like best quality wheaten! Well, now! Sit you down and rest yourself! Luckily, there’s no hurry!”

  “Hurry!” Lucas repeated the word. “To the devil with hurry!” His suspicions increased inwardly every moment as he saw the friendly reception which was being given him, following upon so stern and insistent a summons.

  “Well then, Tio Lucas,” the Alcalde went on, “you are obviously in no great hurry yourself. You’ll sleep here tonight and tomorrow early we’ll settle your little affair…”

  “That will suit me,” agreed Tio Lucas, ready to meet Master Juan’s dissimulation with his own. “Providing the business is not pressing… I’ll spend the night away from home.”

  “Neither pressing nor in any way prejudicial to you, my friend,” continued the Alcalde, himself taken in by his intended dupe. “You can set your mind perfectly at rest. Listen, Tonuelo. Push out that half fanega keg for Tio Lucas to sit on.”

  “All right then!” said the Miller, sitting down. “Give me another drink!”

  “Here you are!” said the Alcalde, handing him a glass full to the brim.

  Tio Lucas made the customary polite acknowledgement. “It’s in good hands… Try a half yourself!”

  “Your health, then!” said Master Juan Lopez, drinking a half of the wine.

  “And yours, Master Alcalde!” answered Tio Lucas, drinking off the other half.

  “Here, Manuela,” the Alcalde called. “Tell your mistress that Tio Lucas is staying the night here. Let her put a pillow in the loft…”

  “Gad, no! I’ll not hear of it! I’m sleeping in the barn – like a king!”

  “See now, we’ve plenty of pillows…”

  “I know you have! But why put the whole household out? I’m wearing my capote!”

  “Very well, my dear sir, as you will! Manuela, tell your mistress she need not—”

  “One favour I would ask,” put in Tio Lucas with a tremendous yawn. “And that is – let me go to bed directly. I did a deal of grinding yesterday and I haven’t yet had a wink of sleep.”

  “Granted!” the Alcalde said royally. “You may go to bed whenever you like.”

  “I think it’s time we went, too,” said the Sacristan, eyeing the wine flask in an effort to calculate what remained inside. “It must be ten o’clock – or not much short.”
>
  “A quarter to ten,” announced the Secretary after sharing out in the glasses the rest of the night’s wine allowance.

  “To bed then, gentlemen,” cried their host, tossing off his share.

  “Till tomorrow, my masters!” put in the Miller, drinking his.

  “Wait till they bring you a light. Tonuelo, take Tio Lucas to the barn.”

  “This way, Tio Lucas!” said Tonuelo, lifting up the flask in case a few drops were left.

  “Till tomorrow if God will—” added the Sacristan, after draining every glass, and off he staggered humming the De Profundis.

  “Well, friend,” the Alcalde said to the Secretary when they were alone. “Tio Lucas suspects nothing. We can go to bed now with easy minds. Much good may it do the Corregidor!”

  18

  Which Shows That Tio Lucas is a Light Sleeper

  Five minutes later a man quietly let himself down from the window of the Alcalde’s barn which looked out on a large yard and was less than four feet from the ground.

  In the yard stood a shed housing a great stable in which six or seven mounts of mixed breed, all mares, were tethered. Stallions, mules, and donkeys occupied a separate hut next door. The man untied an ass which stood ready saddled, and, leading it by the halter, made for the yard gate. He drew back the bolt and undid the latch which fastened it. He opened the gate forthwith and found himself in an open field.

  Once there, he mounted the ass, applied his heels to its flanks, and shot off straight as an arrow in the direction of the city – not, however, by the usual track but across ploughed fields and down cattle paths as though he was anxious to avoid unwelcome encounters.

  The man was, of course, Tio Lucas.

  19

  Voices Crying in the Wilderness

  “What! Alcaldes on my track, and me, a man from Archena!” Lucas kept saying to himself, proudly remembering his Murcian birthplace, as he rode on. “Tomorrow morning I’ll go and see the Lord Bishop and tell him all that has happened to me this night. To send me such an urgent summons at such an unearthly hour, tell me to come alone, speak about the service of the King, about false money, witches, hobgoblins, and whatnot – just to pour me two glasses of wine and send me to bed! It couldn’t be more obvious. Weasel brought those instructions from the Corregidor, and at this very moment the Corregidor will be making his attempt on my wife! Who knows but that I may come upon him knocking at the mill door! Or inside the house! Who knows? But what am I saying? Do I doubt my fine girl? That is an offence to heaven! She could never – no! my Frasquita could never! – Impossible! Yet – what am I saying? Is there anything impossible under the sun? Didn’t she marry me for all that she’s so beautiful and I as ugly as sin?”