Free Complete Short Stories by Robert Graves Page B

ourselves on being men of our word. Well,a catastrophe! In 1934, Don Cristóbal died in a road accident, and Doña Binilde fell in love, at the funeral itself, with a profligate adventurer – this same Don Pablo – and married him on the very first day that the law permitted.’
    ‘I did not know that there are restrictions in Spain on immediate marriage in such cases.’
    ‘There is a law that safeguards the rights of posthumous children. Well,as you can imagine, the marriage caused a scandal, and I, for one, did not attend the wedding – out of respect for the memory of Don Cristóbal. Not a week later Don Pablo served me notice to quit the farm, which he proposed to cultivate himself.’
    ‘And Doña Binilde?’
    ‘She was infatuated with the man. He could do nothing wrong. And she was angry with me for my coolness towards her. When I appealedto her about the agreement made in her presence between Don Cristóbal and me, she answered: “Upon my word, peasant, I can remember nothing. I have a bad head for business matters.”’
    ‘But the Law protected you?’
    ‘Certainly it did. In those days six years’ notice was necessary. But I chose not to take the case to court. It is an uncomfortable position for a man to be tenant to a landlord who hasa grudge against him, especially if the wife has instigated it. So I said to him, mildly enough: “Since Doña Binilde has lost her memory for the sayings of the best husband in Majorca, how can I press the matter? My word is not good enough for you, I see. Well, then, pay me ten thousand pesetas and I will leave on St Anthony’s Day, when I have passed the olives safely through the mill.” For itwas not a bad olive year.
    “‘Ka, man! Why should I pay you ten thousand pesetas?” asked Don Pablo.
    ‘“It is customary to compensate a tenant in lieu of notice. I am asking two years’ rent.”
    ‘“Two years’ rent! How two years’ rent? You have ruined the estate by your mismanagement!” he yelled.
    ‘I insisted: “The respected Don Cristóbal – may his soul rest in peace – thought otherwise. He knew thatI found Ca’n Sampol in a derelict condition and added many thousands to its value. He told me so in the presence of Doña Binilde.”
    “‘I remember nothing of that. I have a bad head for business matters,” the lady said very stubbornly. “And, in the Virgin’s Name, who are you to decide who is the best husband in Majorca and who the worst?”
    ‘I should not have believed it possible that a decent womancould change so, even with the help of peroxide and red nail-varnish; but some women are as accommodating as chameleons.’
    ‘But you got some compensation, surely?’
    ‘Not two
reales
. I will explain. Don Cristóbal, like so many gentlemen of a generous nature, had been slack about keeping accounts. He had a good memory for sums due, and sums owing, but disliked committing his memory to paper, andeither demanding, or making out, receipts. Don Pablo was aware of this peculiarity and therefore asked me to show the rent receipts for the last few years of my Ca’n Sampol tenancy. Four half-yearly receipts were missing. So he set those against the two years’ compensation that I asked, and I had no redress, having always paid in cash, not by cheque, and having no witness to the payments.’
    ‘Whata nasty insect! And then you went to live at Ca’n Samper?’
    ‘Yes. It had been bequeathed me by my old uncle some three yearsbefore: family property descended from my great-grandparents. They had once owned Ca’n Sampol too, though that was before the big house had been built there in Carlist times. You have seen Ca’n Samper. It is a small place but the soil is good, there is plenty of water andthe orchard is valuable.’
    ‘Someone told me a local proverb about its position… something about twitching hairs from a beard – I forget.’
    He laughed nervously: ‘Yes, that is right. St Peter, we say in our village, sits on St Paul’s neck