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