neither of them had enough courage to speak to the bad-tempered Gasto, whose situation as tenant in Pere’s house constantly reminded him of his misfortune at losing his own home. He became increasingly sour whenever he was in the house—which was the one time the two brothers had the opportunity to raise the question with him. His endless growls, protests, and insults continually made them posptone the idea.
Arnau was still bewitched by the atmosphere Aledis generated. He watched her, followed her with his eyes and in his imagination. There was no moment in the day when he did not think of her, except when Gasto made his appearance: the presence of her father made his heart shrink.
This was because, however much the priests and his own guild might forbid him from doing so, he could not take his eyes off Aledis when she, knowing she was alone with her plaything, seemed to take every opportunity to allow her loose, faded smock to press against her body. Arnau was ensnared by the vision: those nipples, breasts—Aledis’s entire body was calling out to him. “You will be my wife. One of these days you will be my wife,” he thought, his mind ablaze. He imagined her naked, his mind wandering along forbidden, unknown paths: the only naked female he had ever seen had been the tortured body of Habiba.
On other occasions, Aledis bent over in front of Arnau. She did not kneel down, but bent from the waist, deliberately showing off her rear and the curves of her hips. She also took advantage of every opportunity she had to raise her smock above her knees and show her thighs. Or she would put her hands on the small of her back, pretending to feel a nonexistent pain, and bend backward so that he could see how flat and smooth her stomach was. Afterward she would smile or, making as if she had suddenly discovered Arnau’s presence, would seem embarrassed. When she went out, Arnau was left struggling to wipe the images from his mind.
Whenever something like this happened, Arnau became even more determined to find the right moment to talk to Gasto.
“What the devil are you two doing just standing there?” Gasto spluttered once, when the two lads came up to him with the ingenuous idea of asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Joan’s tentative smile vanished as soon as the tanner stepped between them, pushing them away from him.
“You ask,” Arnau said to him on another occasion.
Gasto was alone at the table downstairs. Joan sat opposite him, cleared his throat, and was just about to speak when the tanner suddenly looked up from the hide he was busy examining.
“I’ll flay him alive! I’ll tear his balls off!” the tanner exploded, spitting saliva out between the gaps in his blackened teeth. “Simooo!” Joan shrugged in despair toward the figure of Arnau, who was hiding in the corner of the room.
Simo came running. “How could you have stitched this so badly?” Gasto said, pushing the piece of leather under his nose.
Joan got up from his chair and left them to it.
But he and Arnau did not give up.
“Gasto!” Joan shouted after him one evening when the tanner had left the house after supper, apparently in a good mood, and the two boys had followed him down to the beach.
“What do you want?” he said, still striding on.
“At least he’s letting us speak,” the two boys thought.
“I wanted ... to talk to you about Aledis ...”
Hearing his daughter’s name, Gasto came to a sudden halt. He turned and brought his face so close to Joan’s that his rotten breath made the boy reel.
“What’s she done?” Gasto respected Joan; he took him to be a serious young man. To hear him mention Aledis, combined with his naturally suspicious nature, made him think the lad was about to accuse her of something. The tanner could not allow the slightest stain on his precious jewel’s reputation.
“Nothing,” said Joan.
“What do you mean, nothing?” Gasto pressed him, his face still only inches away from Joan. “Why did you mention Aledis then? Tell me the truth. What has she done?”
“Nothing, she’s done nothing, I swear.”
“Nothing? And you, what about you?” he barked, turning to Arnau. Joan was relieved. “What have you got to say for yourself? What do you know about Aledis?”
“Me? ... Nothing ...” Arnau’s hesitation served only to increase the tanner’s obsessive suspicions.
“Tell me!”
“There’s nothing ... no ...”
“Eulalia!” Gasto did not wait to hear any more. He bawled for his wife, and set off back to Pere’s house to find her.
That night the two boys were overcome with guilt as they heard Eulalia cry out in pain as Gasto tried to beat an impossible confession out of her.
They tried to broach the subject twice more, but got nowhere. After several weeks, disheartened, they decided to speak to Father Albert. He smiled and promised to talk to Gasto on their behalf.
“I’M SORRY, ARNAU,” Father Albert told him a week later. He had called the two boys to meet him on the beach. “Gasto Segura does not agree to your marrying his daughter.”
“Why?” Joan wanted to know. “Arnau is a good person.”
“Do you want my daughter to marry a slave from La Ribera?” the tanner had told the priest. “A slave who doesn’t earn enough to pay for a room?”
Father Albert tried to convince him: “There are no slaves working in La Ribera. That was in olden times. You know it’s forbidden for slaves to work—”
“It’s work for slaves.”
