“I see. You want the fifty thousand pesseta note? That’s what you want, you say. And what if I say I don’t care to give it to you? Then what? You can spread the rumor, you have a thousand ways of spreading whatever rumor you like about me. Who will believe you?”
“Everyone.”
That “everyone,” those three grave monotone syllables, spoken with the solemnity of a death knell, had been intoned by Guillem with such conviction that Antoni Mates truly saw that “everyone” would believe it, that “everyone” knew. Before his eyes paraded the equivocal expressions, the telling smiles, the whisperings. He saw himself infected with a special leprosy, as if his clothing gave off a smell that could not be disguised. Even so — and completely irrationally — he came up with these audacious words:
“So what?”
“You know best.”
“But where is the proof, where is it …?”
“What greater proof than my own confession, than my own debasement? When a man lowers himself so far as to be able to tell the tale I can tell about both you and me, they will have no choice but to believe him. Do you understand? No choice.”
Naturally, Guillem said this because he was sure that he would win the bluff and there would be no need for him to tell the tale. Moreover, if the need arose, he could find a way to tell it without going into certain details.
“You …, well, clearly you … what can I say … You are a …”
“Say no more, Senyor Baró. It would behoove us to treat this whole affair as if it were a business deal; to go into explanations would be too unpleasant. I am offering you an absolute guarantee. You have my word. To be frank, I think you’re getting off quite cheaply at fifty thousand pessetes.”
“I have been known to be … Well …, how do I know what I am capable of, poor devil … But you, and your cynicism …”
“Senyor Baró, your words …”
“What about … Dorotea Palau …? What assurances do I have?”
“No need for concern. Dorotea Palau has behaved with the most absolute good faith. The best thing, believe me — I’m saying this for your own good — the best thing is for you to do nothing, and to register no complaints. Dorotea Palau should never hear about this scene. Otherwise the scandal would be unavoidable!”
“Suppose I do give you the note. How do I justify this act of ‘generosity’ in your brother’s eyes?”
“It’s very simple. I’ll take care of it. Ah, and I warn you: my brother is fool enough not to accept this gesture from you. He has a lot of ‘pride,’ my brother does.”
“And so …?”
“And so, I suggest that you keep granting him extensions on the note, and my brother will keep accepting them, ad infinitum, but without need of an underwriter … Do you understand me? No underwriter. And, what’s more, I assume you will be good enough not to charge him interest …”
“But how can I trust you? You …”
“Naturally, you would be an idiot if you trusted me entirely, but for the time being I think I can be trusted.”
“What do you mean, for the time being?”
“I mean that I sort of have you at my mercy …”
“We’ll see about that …”
“Silence is the best strategy. Don’t lose your composure, Senyor Baró. Silence will be best, believe me …”
“Do you want the note right away?”
“If you will be so kind.”
Antoni Mates got to his feet. He had a pitiful air and gait. Three minutes later, he was back with the notorious promissory note. Guillem placed it in his satchel.
“Senyor Baró, before noon you will have a draft of the letter you are to write my brother this very day. Don’t get upset; it is a letter you will be able to sign in good conscience …”
Without responding, Antoni Mates saw Guillem to the door.
“Don’t you want to shake my hand …, Senyor Baró?”
“Enough cynicism. Just leave.”
ON THE SAME DAY Guillem visited the Baró de Falset, Frederic received a letter that stunned him. The letter was from the baron himself; he called him “dear friend,” he used the familiar “tu” and he closed it with, “A handshake from your good friend.” The content of the letter was enough to make him feel faint. Had Guillem truly managed to work a miracle? Frederic didn’t know what to think. Among other things, the letter read “A person I imagined was related to you, but whom I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing as your brother, came to speak with me about your situation and that of your family. I am sorry you weren’t more sincere with me, and didn’t convey to me the difficulty you were having in getting your esteemed father to underwrite the note. If you had been more frank, we could have found a better way to work things out, that is, we would have arranged things in your best interest. But this is where we find ourselves now: your brother and I had a very important affair to settle between us, having to do with my business. In exchange for some very special services, for which I can never express enough gratitude, I am in your brother’s debt, both personally and for a considerable amount. He has informed me that you are not very close, and that neither you nor your esteemed father was aware of the business relationship between your brother and me. Hence, in a display of altruism and unselfishness that you, his brother, who knows him well, can comprehend better than I, he has asked me to give him the promissory note you accepted, which if my memory serves comes due tomorrow or the day after, to wipe out part of my debt to him. He swears that his intention was to give you a surprise and avert an unpleasantness for your father, and that he will give you the note and you will make your own arrangements from there on in. He has intimated, moreover, that he owes you a few large favors, and having learned only lately of your compromised situation, the circumstances were ideal for him to show you this kindness. As I consider this perfectly natural, I have given him the note and, as he requested, I am writing you this letter.”
As Frederic went on reading, he didn’t understand a thing. “Consider this perfectly natural”? Frederic thought, “Perfectly natural …? I find it entirely mysterious and bizarre. What kind of dealings could Guillem have with this fool? Was Guillem actually capable of earning money, of collaborating in a serious enterprise, of doing something worthwhile? Indeed, was this letter from Antoni Mates the genuine article? It would be incredible if the whole thing were some prank of Guillem’s.” Frederic kept going back and rereading the letter. Below the signature, the Baró de Falset had added these words: “I will be forever and deeply grateful if you tear up and burn this letter.” “What is that all about? What does it mean?” Frederic thought. “Why should I burn the letter? After all, nothing he says here could compromise anyone.”