Froth: A Novel

"As it might be a raisin!"

"No, no, Marquesa; no."

The General eagerly repelled the charge and defended himself as valiantly as though in front of the enemy.

Meanwhile the servants were moving about handing various dishes, while others, bottle in hand, murmured in the ear of each guest, "Sauterne, Sherry, Margaux," in a hollow tone like that of a Carthusian monk muttering his memento mori.

"I drink nothing but iced champagne," Pepa Frias announced to the servant behind her.

"You need so much cooling," exclaimed Castro.

"You surely knew that," said the widow with a meaning look.

"To my sorrow!"

"Why, are you tired of Clementina?"

Fuentes was not happy under these conditions. It grieved him to lavish his wit in a tête-à-tête, so he seized the first opportunity of raising his voice and attracting the attention of the whole party.

"I saw you in the Carrera de San Jeromino yesterday morning, Fuentes," said the Condesa de Cotorraso, who sat three or four places lower down.

"That depends on what you call the morning, Condesa."

"It was about eleven, a little before or after."

"Then allow me to dispute your statement. I am never out of bed till two."

"Till two!" exclaimed one and another.

"That is going to an excess!" cried the Marquesa de Alcudia.

The whole company were listening, greatly edified by this defence of laziness, and feeling themselves in a position to laugh at it, saying in an undertone:

"That Fuentes! Oh, that Fuentes can talk any one down!"

Then, simply for the pleasure of it, some one contradicted him.

"But then, my dear fellow, you do not know the delights of getting up early in the morning to breathe the fresh air and bathe in the sunshine!"

"I would sooner bathe in warm water with a little bottle of Kananga."

"Can you deny that the sun is glorious?"

"Glorious by all means, but just a little vulgar. I do not say that at the creation of the world it may not have been a very striking thing, worth getting up to look at; but you must admit that by this time it is a little played out. Can there be anything more ridiculous in these downright days than to call oneself Phœbus Apollo and drive a golden chariot? And, after all, the sun has no intrinsic merits; it stays blazing where God put it, while gas and the electric light represent the brain-work of men of genius. They are the triumph of intelligence, a record of the power of mind over matter, the sovereignty of intellect throughout the universe. Besides, you can always see the sun for nothing, and I have always had a horror of free exhibitions."

The Conde de Cotorraso persisted in his defence of the sun to encourage his friend's ingenious abuse. It was the sun which gave vitality to all nature, which warmed the earthly globe, and so forth.

"As to the sun giving life, I deny it," replied Fuentes. "Madrid is much more alive by night than by day, and, as to warming me, I much prefer coke, which does not give rise to fevers. Come, Count, be frank now. What particular merit can there be in a thing which, under all circumstances, your valet must see before you do?"

This was regarded as a final happy hit, and the subject was dropped.

From talking of the sun they came to talking of the shade, and of the shade of poisonous trees. The Marquesa de Ujo asked Lola's husband, the Mexican, whose name was Ballesteros, whether the manchineel were a native of his country. He replied that it was not, but that he had seen it growing in Brazil. The lady inquired very particularly into its properties, but she was greatly disenchanted on hearing that the shade of the tree was not pernicious, and that it was only the acrid juice of the fruit which was poisonous.

"So that you do not die if you fall asleep under it?"

"Señora, I did not fall asleep, don't you see? But I breakfasted under one with a party of friends, and we were none the worse."

"Well, then, how does Selika commit suicide in the Africaine by lying down in the shade of a manchineel?"

"It is a fable, an invention of the poet's. It is a pretty idea but not true."

"Is it true, Ballesteros," asked Clementina, "that you have eight hundred thousand cows?"

"Oh, Señora, that is an exaggeration! My herds number three hundred thousand at most."

"If they were mine," said Fuentes, "I would build a tank as large as the Retiro Gardens, and fill it with milk and sail a boat on it."

"We make no use of the milk, Señor, nor of the butter. We sometimes dry the meat for exportation, don't you see? But generally we only save the skin. And the horns also are sold for various forms of manufacture."

"Plague take him for a bore!" said Pepe Castro in a low voice, but loud enough for Jimenez Arbos to hear where he sat by Pepa Frias, who was taken with a fit of laughter which she had the greatest difficulty in choking down.

She addressed herself to Clementina to conceal her mirth as far as possible:

"Pass me the mustard, there's a trump," said she.

"Trump, trump? What is a trump?" asked the Baroness de Rag, in her eagerness to learn the language, and Osorio explained the use of the word.

Pepa addressed herself from time to time to Jimenez Arbos; a few brief sentences in a low tone, which showed that they were on intimate terms, and at the same time revealed a desire to be prudent. Her conversation with Castro on her left was more animated.

"Why don't you advise Arbos to eat more meat?" he asked her.

"Why should I?"

"Because he ought to eat meat to give him strength to endure the fatigues of daily life."

"To be sure," said the widow, sarcastically. "But do you take care of yourself and leave others to settle their own affairs as Providence may guide them."

"Well, you see I manage to get fed."

"Have I offended you?" said the young man, laughing as if he had heard something very amusing.

"No, my dear fellow, no. I mean what I say. For my part I cannot think how Clementina can bear such a Narcissus as you."

"Hush! hush! Be careful, Pepa, pray be careful!" cried Castro, with an alarmed glance at the mistress of the house.

"Do you know she is wonderfully artful. She has not looked at you once."

Castro, who had been a good deal piqued these few days past by his lady's coldness, smiled a forced smile and then knit his brows. Pepa did not fail to observe this.

"Look at the black cloud on Osorio's face; it is enough to frighten one! And you are the guilty cause of it, you wretch!"

"I! Oh, dear no! It is more likely to be some question of ready money which makes him look so bilious. I hear he is ruined, or within an ace of it."

Pepa started visibly.

"Who says so? Where did you hear that?"

"Several persons have told me so."

The widow turned sharply to Arbos on her other hand, and asked him in a whisper:

"Have you heard anything about Osorio's being ruined?"

"Yes, I have heard it said that Osorio has for some time been buying for a fall, and the market has gone up steadily," replied the official, with a toss of his head suggesting a peacock, and there was a touch of evident satisfaction in his tone. To a politician, buying for a fall is a crime worthy of any punishment. "I do not know how much he may be let in for at the next account; but if it is anything considerable, he is a ruined man. Consols have gone up one per cent., by the end of the month they may have risen to two."

"Have you by any chance any money in his hands?"

"By chance! No, by my own idiocy. Almost everything I possess is in his hands."

"The devil it is!"

"Everything I have eaten has turned on my stomach; I believe I am going to be ill," said the lady, who was as pale as a sheet.

Arbos did his best to tranquillise her; perhaps it was not true: sudden losses, like sudden fortunes, are always greatly exaggerated. Besides, if any deposit were sacred to Osorio, it would surely be that of a lady who had entrusted her money to him out of pure friendship.

Though they were talking almost in a whisper, their grave looks and earnest manner attracted the notice of General Patiño, who, turning to the Marquesa de Ujo, said with singular perspicacity:

"Just look at Pepa and Arbos, a summer cloud has fallen on them. Love is a beautiful thing even in its transient torments!"

Clementina meanwhile, with Lola and the Condera de Cotorraso, had been discussing the effects of arsenic as a drug for beautifying the complexion and skin. It was the first time Lola had heard of it, and she was quite delighted, declaring that she would forthwith try this miraculous elixir.

"Good heavens, Lolita!" exclaimed Fuentes, "if, as you are, you cause such havoc in masculine hearts, what will happen after you have followed a regimen of arsenic for a few months? Señor Ballesteros, do not permit her to take it; it is too cruel to the rest of us."

"Chaff, what is chaff?" the Baroness de Rag asked again.

Bonifacio had for some moments been staring, without winking even, at the Belgian lady. A few days since he had purchased a photograph of a figure lounging in a hammock. He fancied that the Baroness strongly resembled this picture, and was anxious to convince himself by a prolonged study of what he could see whether what he could not see was equally like it.

The dinner could not end of course without a long discussion of the opera, Gayarre and Tosti. Otherwise the meal could not have been digested. The coffee was served in the dining-room, as was the custom of the house. Then the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, followed by several of the men; others remained to smoke, but it was not long before they joined the others. The dining-room was intolerably hot.

Pepe Castro took advantage of the little stir as they left the dining-room to ask Clementina:

"Why did you not come this morning?"

Clementina paused a second, and looked at him with a condescending smile. "This morning?" she said. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" said the lordly youth with a sovereign frown.

"I don't know, I don't know," and she turned away still smiling a little disdainfully.

"You will come to-morrow?"

"We will see," she replied, walking away.

THERE were already some fresh arrivals in the drawing-room, among them Ramon Maldonado, and Pepa's daughter with her husband. In the adjoining room, six tables were laid out for cards, and some of the company sat down immediately to play tresillo. Others waited for their usual party to appear. It was not long before the rooms were crowded. Don Julian arrived with Mariana and Esperancita, Cobo Ramirez with Leon Guzman and three or four others of the same kidney, General Pallarés, the Marquis de Veneros, and several others, most of the men being merchants and bankers.

One of the last to arrive was the Duke de Requena, who was welcomed with the same eager and flattering deference here as elsewhere. He came in snuffling, smoking, spitting, insolently sure of the respect always paid to his immense fortune. He spoke little and laughed less, expressed his opinions with gross rudeness, and sat to be adored by the crowd of ladies who gathered round him. His cheeks were more flabby, his eyes more bloodshot, his lips blacker than ever. His whole appearance was so hideous that Fuentes, pointing him out, remarked to Pinedo and Jimenez Arbos: "There you see the Devil holding court among his witches at a Sabbath."

The Duke made his way to speak to a Mr. Biggs, the representative of an English house, which was largely interested in the company, and the head of the party who were for payment by instalments. He put his arm over his shoulder, and led him into the recess of a window, saying roughly:

"Then you are bent on ruining us!"

And he proceeded to discuss the matter with a bluntness which disconcerted the Englishman. He replied to the Duke's brutal attack with mild and courteous argument, and a fixed benevolent smile. The Duke only spoke with added rudeness, which was in point of fact, very diplomatic.

"I have no fancy for throwing away my money. It has cost me a great deal of trouble to get it at all, you see; and in the long run I may very likely be obliged to escape with my skin by getting out of the business."

"Señor Duque, it is no fault of mine," said Biggs, with a strong English accent, "I must obey orders."

"These orders are instigated by an old fox in Madrid that I know of."

"Oh, Señor Duque! there is no old fox in the case," said Biggs, laughing.

And the banker could not get anything out of the Englishman, though he left him much to think of.

Pepa was watching him closely, and with a woman's keen insight she divined a troubled sea under his cold, quiet demeanour. Arbos was soothing her in stilted and well turned phrases—for not even to his mistress could he throw off the orator—while the widow herself was meditating some means of salvation. Her plan was to give the alarm to Clementina, and extract her promise to snatch Pepa's fortune from the burning, if burning there must be, by pledging her own settlements. Trusting much to her own diplomacy, and to her friend's reckless habits, she grew somewhat calmer, and Arbos took advantage of her restored serenity to exert the exceptional gifts of persuasion which Providence had bestowed on him.

Pepa recovered so far, in fact, as to sit down to cards with Clementina, Pinedo, and Arbos. As she crossed the drawing-room, she saw in a corner her daughter and son-in-law, sitting like two devoted turtle-doves. She stopped to speak to them, and as her temper was not entirely pacified, her tone was sharp.

"Yesterday you were ready to call each other out, and to-day nothing will part you! Come, children, do not sit together all the evening. You should not be so spooney in company."

A party of five or six young girls, and among them Esperancita, were talking with a group of the younger men. Two of these were Cobo Ramirez and our intelligent friend Ramon Maldonado. It would be difficult to reduce to writing the ideas exchanged by these youthful talkers. They must have been subtle, amusing, and pointed, if we may judge by the mirth they gave rise to. At the same time the keen observer would have detected the fact that the young ladies' gestures, appealing eyes, saucy glances, and insinuating graces, even their shouts of laughter, had no direct connection with what was said.

For instance, a bland youth remarked:

"I saw you, yesterday, Manolita, at San José's, confessing to Father Ortega."

The damsel addressed laughed heartily.

"No, Paco, I am sure you did not see me."

"Pilar," said another, "Where do you buy such pretty fans?"

Pilar went into fits of laughter.

"What a joke! And you—where did you buy such a hideous dog as you take trotting at your heels?"

"Hideous, yes. But a darling, you must own."

When this mirth had somewhat subsided Leon Guzman contrived with some skill to move a little apart, and enter into conversation with Esperancita. This deeply pained and vexed Ramon. For the last ten days he had observed that the Conde de Agreda had cast admiring eyes in the direction of the lady of his adoration. He regarded him as a more dangerous rival than Cobo, being a man of much better position. Cobo, indeed, as he could see, was making no way, and this had comforted him; but now the aspect of affairs had changed. He could take no part in the merriment of the group, but sat making calf's eyes at the damsel in the most lamentable fashion. Esperancita, to his great consolation, was by no means especially amiable to the Count; she seemed bored, indeed, and depressed, looking very frequently towards the spot where Ramon himself was sitting. Behind him, to be sure, were Pepe Castro and Lola, talking with the greatest animation; but of this the young civilian was not aware.

Requena, after explaining his schemes to Biggs, sat down to play cards with the Condesa Cotorraso, the Mexican, and General Pallarés. But in a few minutes he was snorting with rage over his bad hands. In spite of his wealth he always played as eagerly as though it were of the greatest importance to him, whether he lost or gained a few dollars. If luck was against him, he got into a positively infernal temper, grumbling at his antagonists, and almost insulting them. His daughter was not unfrequently obliged to interfere and take his cards to play them in his place. Just now, Clementina was playing at the next table, apparently to her own satisfaction, and laughing at Pepa Frias for being silent and absent-minded.

"By the way, Pinedo, I had forgotten," said she, as she sorted the fan of cards she held. "Why on earth did you try this morning to make your little daughter believe that Alcantara, of all men, was a saint of virtue?"

"That is my secret," replied Pinedo.

"Tell it, tell it!" cried Clementina and Pepa, both in the same breath.

He let them beg and pray a little; then, after bidding them promise solemnly that they would never reveal it, he told them that, having observed a marked tendency in girls to fall in love with idlers and evil-minded youths, and to reject those who were steady and hard-working, he reversed the facts when talking of a scapegrace, in order that his daughter might not fall into the hands of one of them. When a well-conducted, hard-working young fellow went past, he always spoke of him as a simpleton or a rogue; if, on the contrary, they met a man like Alcantara, who deserved the worst character, he spoke of him in the highest terms.

Pepa, Clementina, and Arbos had paused in their game to smile at this strange explanation.

"And has this plan had the desired effect?" asked the Minister.

At this instant, Cobo Ramirez, who was wandering about, snorting like a tired ox, came up to the table and asked what they were laughing at. No one could be induced to tell. Pinedo signed to them to be silent, for he was greatly afraid of Cobo's tongue. Pepe Castro, too, tired of trying to rouse Clementina's jealousy by his behaviour to Lola without any visible result, softly approached her table with an air of deep melancholy. He posted himself behind Pepa Frias, resting his arms on the back of her chair. Fuentes came up to say Good night.

"Will you not take some chocolate?" asked Clementina, holding out her hand.

"How can you expect a man to drink chocolate when he has just had a sonnet fired off in his face?"

"Mariscal?"

"The very man. In the dining-room—he lay in ambush."

Mariscal was a young poet in the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, who wrote sonnets to the Virgin and odes to duchesses. "But I avenged myself like a Barbary Moor. I introduced him to Cotorraso who is giving him a lecture on oils. Look how the poor wretch is suffering!"

The gamblers looked round, and saw, in fact, the two men in a corner together. The Count was haranguing vehemently, and holding his victim by the lapel of his coat. The unhappy poet, with a rueful countenance, trying to give signals of distress by glances, stood like a man who is being taken to prison.

"Arbos, do you think I am sufficiently avenged?"

The servants presently came with trays of chocolate and ices. Cobo Ramirez seized a little Japanese table, carried it off into a corner, sat down to it, and prepared to stuff. Pepa Frias looked about her, and seeing General Patiño, called to him.

"Here, General, take my cards, I am tired of playing. Hand yours over to Pepe, Clementina, and let us go into the other room."

The two gentlemen took their seats, and the ladies went towards the drawing-room; but, on their way, Pepa said:

"I want to speak with you on a matter of importance; let us go somewhere else."

Clementina stared with amazement.

"Shall we go into the dining-room?"

"No, we had better go up to your dressing-room."

Her friend was more surprised than ever, but, shrugging her shoulders, she said: "Just as you please; it must be something very serious."

They went upstairs, Clementina imagining that her friend wished to speak of Pepe Castro, and their relations to each other. And as, to tell the truth, the subject had greatly lost its interest, she walked on feeling very indifferent, not to say considerably bored. When they were alone in the boudoir, Pepa took her hands, and looking her straight in the face, she said:

"Tell me, Clementina, do you know how your husband's affairs stand?"

"My husband's affairs?" she stammered, as though she did not understand. "I never heard. I do not inquire."

"Well, I am told that he has been losing a great deal of money lately."

"I dare say," exclaimed her friend, with a shrug of supreme contempt.

"But you may find your hair singed, too, my dear. Is your own money safe?"

"I do not know what you are driving at. I tell you I know nothing of business."

"But in this case you had better gain some information."

"But I tell you I do not trouble my head about it, and beg you will change the subject."

In proportion as Pepa was obstinate Clementina was reserved and haughty. Her pride, always on the alert, led her to suppose that this lady had plotted for this discussion on purpose to mortify her.

"The thing is, my dear, as I feel bound to tell you, that your husband does not speculate with his own money only," said the widow, driven to bay.

"Ah! Now I begin to see! You have a few hundred dollars in Osorio's hands, and are afraid of losing them," said Clementina with a satirical smile, and with difficulty swallowing down her wrath.

"Well, yes; I own it. Your husband has in his hands the whole of my little possessions. If I lose it I shall be absolutely destitute. I do not know what will become of me. I would rather beg than be dependent on my son-in-law."

"Beg! No, you need not do that. I will engage you as my companion in the place of Pascuala," said Clementina scornfully, for her pride was by no means propitiated.

Pepa was more stung by this than she had ever been before, but still she controlled herself.

"Well, my dear," she said, again taking her hands with a caressing gesture, "do not fling your millions in my teeth. If I come to worry you about the matter, it is because I regard you as my best friend. I know, of course, that there is a great deal of exaggeration, and that envy is rampant. More than half that is said about Osorio's losses is probably not true."

"And even if it were, it really matters very little to me. Only to-day my stepmother told me that she meant to leave me her whole fortune."

Pepa's eyes opened very wide.

"The Duchess! And she cannot have less than fifty million francs! Poor soul! I am afraid she is very ill."

"Pretty bad."

At this moment arrogance had the upper hand in Clementina of every instinct of affection. She spoke the two words "pretty bad" in a tone of freezing indifference.

They went down the stairs with their arms round each other's waist, chattering like a pair of magpies. As they reached the drawing-room door, before parting, they embraced and kissed.

CLEMENTINA'S new love adventure went on in a manner no less childish than pleasing for her. After the inopportune act of heedlessness which had brought her to so much shame, she took care for some days not to look up at Raimundo, though the greetings he waved her were more expressive and affectionate than ever. This fancy—for it deserves no better name—was, however, taking such deep root in her imagination that she determined to indulge it again, and on each occasion she found the young man's opera-glasses directed towards her. Finally, one day, as she turned the corner, she kissed her hand to him.

"Really, I have lost all sense of shame!" said she to herself, with a blush. And it was so true that she did the same again whenever she went by.

But the situation, though romantic and novel, began to weigh upon her. Her impetuous temperament would never allow her to enjoy the present in peace; it drove her to seek further, to precipitate events; though not unfrequently, instead of procuring her pleasure, they only left her entangled in the ruins of the dream-palace she had raised. On this occasion, however, she had better reason than usual for wishing to get out of the predicament. It was altogether such a false position as to verge on the ridiculous; and she owned as much to herself in her most secret soul.

But though she every day determined to put an end to the adventure by going out no more on foot, or by passing by Raimundo's house without looking up, bowing to him coldly at the utmost, she had not resolution enough to carry out her purpose, nor even to cease sending her greeting up to the corner window. One thing still puzzled her, and that was, that the young man, seeing the evident tokens she had given of her change of mind, and the rather humiliating proofs of her liking for him, had never failed in his obedience—never followed her, nor attempted to meet her out walking. This at last piqued her vanity; she thought he played his new part with too much zeal. And thinking this she was sometimes quite angry with him; but then as she went past and saw him so smiling, so happy, so eager to bow to her, the black mood of her pride was dispelled, and her heart was again full to overflowing, of sympathy for the boy, and of the whimsical desire to love and to be loved by him.

Chance came to her aid, solving the dilemma to her satisfaction when she least expected it. They met one evening at the theatre. Raimundo, whose year of deep mourning was nearly at an end, now occasionally went out, and he and his sister were in the stalls. Clementina was in a box just above them. They exchanged bows, and then for some time there was a cross-fire of glances and smiles, which attracted Aurelia's attention.

"Who is it? Have you been meeting that lady again?"

"No."

"Then what is the meaning of your smiles? You seem to be intimate friends."

"I do not know," said the brother, somewhat embarrassed. "She is always very friendly to me. Perhaps she thinks she offended me when she came to our rooms, and wishes to mollify me."

Between the first and second acts, a beautiful spray of camellia was handed to Aurelia by a flower-seller.

"From the lady in box number eleven."

Aurelia looked up, and saw Clementina gazing and smiling at her. She and Raimundo bowed their thanks, Aurelia blushing deeply.

"Do not you think," said her brother, "that I ought to go upstairs and thank her?"

"I am glad to see that you have no grudge against me," said she in a low voice, with an insinuating glance. "That is right. It shows you have both a good heart and good sense. I must frankly confess that I was utterly mistaken in my estimate of your conduct and character. I can only assure you that when I came out of your house, I would gladly have turned back to beg your pardon. If not in words, in looks and gestures I have asked it many times since, as you will have understood." And she proceeded, in the most masterly way, to give him three or four more encouraging hints, which quite turned poor Raimundo's head—that is to say, left him speechless, confused, and fascinated; just as she would have him, in short. At the same time she skilfully accounted for the rather singular display of liking for him which she herself was ashamed to recall.

Then reflecting that his sister would be losing patience, though he could keep an eye on her from the box, he rose to depart.

"We are friends, are we not?" said the lady, holding his hand. "Remember me affectionately to your sister. I owe her, too, an apology for my strange and unexpected visit. Tell her I shall call on her some day and take her by surprise in the midst of her household cares. I take the greatest interest in you both—a brother and sister, both so young—good night, good night."

When he found himself by his sister's side once more, feeling rather bewildered, Aurelia said to him:

"How very handsome that lady is! But still I cannot see that she is like mamma."

Raimundo, who at the moment had forgotten the likeness, was taken by surprise.

"Oh, there is a sort of look—an air," he stammered out.

So now it was no more than an air. The young man was conscious of a vague remorse. The impression Clementina now produced on his mind was not that respectful devotion which had possessed him before they had made acquaintance in so strange a manner.

"Have you noticed how that lady gazes down at you?" said Aurelia to her brother. "She seems to have taken quite a fancy to you."

"Nonsense!" he replied, turning very red. "Such a fellow as I am too! If it were that gentleman who is sitting by her now."

Aurelia protested, laughing, that her brother was far better looking than that doll of a man, with pink cheeks like a ballet-dancer's.

When the performance was over, Raimundo, not without a pang of jealousy, found Clementina waiting in the lobby for her carriage, attended by this same man. But she greeted him so eagerly, that Castro, who was becoming uneasy, turned to give him a long and scrutinising stare.

He did his best to assist chance, by going more often to the play, where he never saw her. At the opera, he would certainly have found her, but he never was so bold as to go there for fear she might think he had renewed his pursuit. Why he had taken it into his head that she would call at any one hour more than at another it is impossible to say. But in the end his surprise and agitation were unbounded when one morning Clementina really made her appearance. This time she asked for the Señorita. Aurelia received her in the drawing-room, and immediately sent for her brother. By the time he appeared the lady was sitting on the sofa and chatting with the frank ease of an old acquaintance.

"This visit is not to you, you understand," said she, giving him her hand.

"I should never have dared to imagine that it was," he replied, shyly pressing her fingers.

"There is no knowing. I do not think you conceited, but a woman must always be on her guard."

There was something not quite genuine in the candour of her jesting tone. Her voice was slightly tremulous, and there was a pale circle round her eyes, a sure sign of some emotion which weighs on the mind. Her visit was short, but she found time to charm the young girl by her delicate flattery and effusive offers. She made her promise to return her visit soon; in the evening if she preferred to meet no one, and they would have a long chat together. She would show Aurelia the house, and some work she was doing. The girl's loneliness and youth had really made an impression on her, and if, in fact, she bore some resemblance to their mother, as Raimundo said, she felt she had some claim on her affection.

"Well, then, when you are bored here by yourself, come to my house—it is such a little way—and we will bore each other. That will be a variety, at any rate."

"I rely on you, Alcázar, to see that your sister keeps her promise. As for you—you can do as you please. I never press my society on a savant, for I know one may be boring him when one least suspects it."

She had quite recovered her balance, and spoke in an easy protecting tone, with almost a maternal air. Even on the staircase she paused to reiterate all her friendly advances. She would not allow Raimundo to escort her to the house-door; she went down alone, leaving a trail of perfume which he enjoyed more than his sister did. When their door was closed on her, Aurelia did not speak; and she replied to her brother's rapturous eulogies in so few words that his ardour was soon dashed.

It was too true: the feeling of filial adoration which the young professor had felt at first for the lady of his dreams was fast dying away, or rather was being transformed into another, less saintly though still akin to it. In him, as in every man who lives out of the society of women, and exclusively devoted to study, the instincts of sex and the revelation of the divine law of love were sudden and intense. On the very next day he urged Aurelia to return Clementina's call, though he expressed his wish with some timidity and hesitation. His sister, however, insisted on the propriety of allowing some little time to elapse, and he submitted. At length the visit was paid. Aurelia spent an afternoon in the Señora's boudoir. Raimundo, after much deliberation, did not venture to accompany her.

Thanks to Raimundo's efforts, the intimacy grew apace, though his sister, while she spoke warmly of her new friend's kindness, opposed a passive resistance to all familiarity with her. Do what she might, she could not forget the extraordinary way in which their acquaintance had begun, nor the sense of falsity with which Clementina had impressed her. Raimundo, fully aware of all this, did his utmost by direct and indirect means to conquer her suspicions.

Aurelia was plain, rather than pretty, with sound common sense, and an upright spirit. Her adoration for her brother, inherited from her mother, did not blind her to the weak points in his character. He was easily impressed and as easily led, and still very puerile. In fact, in a certain sense, she represented the masculine and he the feminine element in the house. He was easily moved to tears; she, with great difficulty. He was liable to whimsical alarms and bewilderments, amounting sometimes almost to hallucinations, her nervous system was calm and well balanced; she was healthy and sound, he frail and placid. During the months immediately following on his mother's death, Raimundo, making a great effort, with the idea of being his sister's protector, had shown more manliness and firmness; but, as time went on, his nature reasserted itself, and he fell into his childish fancies and womanly susceptibilities again, in proportion as she developed a resolute, honest, and well-balanced character.

It cost Clementina hardly an effort to fascinate and subjugate the young naturalist. Sometimes the young people went to her, and sometimes she to them; or she would fetch them to go to the theatre, or out driving with her, and thus they soon met almost every day. The first evening that Pepe Castro met Alcázar in the Osorios' drawing-room he perfectly understood the situation, and it filled him with rage.

"So this precious hussy is taking up with a baby!" he muttered between his teeth. "They all come to such folly at last."

Alcázar was not such a boy as Castro thought him; he was three-and-twenty. But his face was so youthful and delicate that he did not look more than eighteen. His health was variable and frail; especially, since his mother's death, he had been liable to attacks of the brain, when he lost sometimes his sight, and sometimes the power of speech, complicated with other evils, but happily of very short duration. He was a frequent prey to melancholy, ending in a violent crisis and floods of tears, like a hysterical woman. He was terrified of spiders; the sight of a surgical instrument gave him the horrors. Sometimes he suffered acute anguish from a dread of going mad; at others his fear was lest he should kill himself against his will. He never would have any kind of weapon within reach, and for fear of throwing himself from the balcony he always had his bedroom window locked at night and placed the key in his sister's keeping: she was the only witness and confidant of his vagaries. They were the outcome, partly of his temperament, and partly of the effeminate training he had received. But he kept them a secret, as every man does who suffers in this way—many more than are ever suspected of it—and by constant watchfulness he kept them under control, knowing how ridiculous a man thus constituted must appear.

Clementina could not help smiling at these innocent symptoms of love. She was full of curiosity, and happy to find herself still handsome enough to inspire the boy with such a passion. Sometimes she would amuse herself by playing the fish, making him blush, and behaving with the license and frivolity of a grisette. At others she affected to fall in with his melancholy mood, making eyes at him like a school-girl; or, again, she treated him with tender familiarity, inquiring into his life, his work, and his thoughts, like a fond mother or elder sister. Then Raimundo would recover his spirits a little, and dare to look the goddess in the face. Clementina would occasionally cajole him by an affectation of scientific tastes, going up to his study and covering the table and the floor with his butterfly-boxes. This, which if any one else had done it, would have brought the house about their ears, only made the young naturalist smile.

But by this time the lady's acquaintances were beginning to make remarks on her last and most extravagant love-affair, assuming, of course, that it had gone much further than was really the case. One Saturday evening at the Osorios' house Pepa Frias ended by exclaiming to three or four of the "Savages," with whom she had been discussing the matter:

"You will see. Clementina will end by falling in love with a Newfoundland dog or a journalist!"

When Raimundo came into the room with his rosy, melancholy, cherubic face, his diffident, embarrassed air, every one looked at him with curiosity: there were smiles, murmurs, witticisms, and stupid remarks. He was much discussed. In general, and especially by men, Clementina was thought ridiculous; some of the ladies, however, looked more kindly on the youth, thought his candid looks very attractive, and sympathised with her whim.

Raimundo went to the Opera whenever Clementina was to be there; he went up to pay his respects to her in her box, and often, by her invitation, sat there during two or three acts. Then she would retire to the back of the box and chat with him there, screened by the curtains. When she was tired of this, or if some important scene was being sung on the stage, she would lapse into silence, turn her back on her companion, and listen to the performance. Raimundo, his ears full of the echo of her tones, and his heart on fire from the ardour of her gaze, would also remain silent, though, in truth, more attentive to the music in his brain than to that performed for his delectation. Sure of not being seen, he could contemplate the alabaster shoulders of his idol with religious absorption, and bend down his head, on pretence of hearing better, to breathe the perfume she used, shutting his eyes and allowing it to intoxicate him. One evening he put his face so close to her head that he actually dared to let his lips touch the heavy plaits of her beautiful hair. No sooner had he done it than he was in great alarm lest Clementina should have felt it; but she sat unmoved, listening ecstatically to the music. At the same time, as the young man could see, her eyes sparkled with a conscious smile. Encouraged by this success, whenever she had her hair done in this particular way, he ventured, with the greatest precaution, and after much hesitation, to press it to his lips. The pleasure was so acute and delightful that it dwelt on his lips for many days.

"Nay, wait a minute, Alcázar; I have something to say to you," and she withdrew, as usual, to the back of the box and began chatting with all her frank amiability. The young man breathed again; still, when she turned away to listen to the music, he was so unstrung and confused that he did not dare to kiss her hair, though it was plaited low, and the opportunity was propitious.

After a long pause Clementina suddenly turned on him and asked in a low voice:

"Why do you not kiss my hair, as you always do?"

His amazement was quite a shock to him. All the blood rushed to his heart, leaving him as pale as a corpse; then it mounted to his face, turning it to the colour of a poppy.

"I—your hair," he gasped abjectly. And he was forced to cling to a chair-back to save himself from falling.

"Do not be frightened, my dear fellow," she exclaimed, laying her hand on his. "If I allowed it, that is sufficient proof that I did not object." But seeing that he was gazing at her wildly, as if he did not understand her, she added: "Perhaps you imagine that I did not know that you care for me a little?"

The young man gave a convulsive cry.

Casting a hasty glance round the house, to make sure that they were not observed, she took his hands in hers, and her breath was warm on his cheek as she said: "Yes, I love you—beyond anything you can imagine."

Clementina had not anticipated the effect of these words on her susceptible and effeminate adorer. The violent emotions he had gone through, and now the high tide of happiness, so completely upset him that he began to cry like a child. She hastily drew him into a corner, filling up the space between the curtains with her person. Her face was radiant with happiness.

Her conquest, in fact, had a novelty about it which quite enchanted her. This lover was hardly more than a boy; nor was he one of the herd of puppies and dandies whom she met at every turn, all cast in the same mould, devoid of all originality, having all the same vices, the same vanities, uttering almost the same jests. Raimundo was different from these, not merely by his humble position and secluded life, nor even by his talents and culture, but most of all by his character. How sweet a nature was this boy's! How innocent, how sensitive, how refined, and yet how impassioned! Accustomed as she was to the monotonous type of Pepe Castros, every new psychological aspect, every burst of enthusiasm, every alarm and every joy in her new friend, was to Clementina a delightful surprise. She was never tired of studying his mind, and would sometimes affect to doubt his love for her.

"Do you really love me? Are you sure? Remember, I am an old woman; I might be your mother."

And Raimundo always replied with some fond caress and a tearful glance, which revealed the depth of his devotion.

His life had undergone a complete change. From living in absolute seclusion he suddenly came out into the world of fashion: theatres, balls, dinners, riding-parties, and shooting expeditions. Clementina bound him to her chariot, and exhibited him in every drawing-room as if she were proud of him. For our young friend, with his delicate features, gentle temper, and superior intelligence, became popular wherever he went; no one stopped to ask whether he were rich or poor, noble or plebeian.

Aurelia sometimes accompanied him, but always against her will. Though she dared not contravene her brother's line of conduct, it was easy to see that she condemned it in her heart, and was out of her sphere at the Osorios'. She had become taciturn and grave, and her eyes, when she bent them on Raimundo, took a sad and gloomy expression, as though she feared disaster. Clementina did all she could to win her, but she made no way in the girl's affections; and under Aurelia's modest smiles and blushes she fancied she could detect a vein of hostility which often disconcerted her.

Raimundo's love was an extraordinary joy to her. She felt herself borne, as she had never been before, on a wave of devoted and poetic passion which rocked and soothed her. She was well content to play the goddess. She enjoyed showing herself as now amiable and tender, and again gravely terrible, putting her adorer to a thousand proofs, to make quite sure, as she said, that he was indeed wholly hers.

But the habit of dealing with men of a different stamp led her into fatal mistakes, which grieved and hurt the youth. One day, in their own little rooms, she said, with a smile:

"I have a present for you, Mundo," as she called him for a pet name.

She rose and took out of her muff a very pretty little note-book.

"Oh, that is most sweet!" he exclaimed pressing it to his lips. "I will always use it."

But on opening it he was struck with consternation. It was full of bank-notes.

"You have forgotten to take the money out," he said handing her the pocket-book.

"I have not forgotten it. It is for you."

"For me?" he said turning pale.

"Do you not wish for it?" she said, somewhat abashed and blushing scarlet.

"No," he said firmly, "certainly not."

At last a bright smile lighted up her face. She rose from her seat, and taking his head between her hands, she said gaily:

"Well done! This action raises you in my esteem. Still, you may take money from me without a blush. Am I not your mamma?"

Raimundo said nothing; he only kissed the hands that had held him fast. Money was never again spoken of between them.

Sometimes if he was in a merry mood he would perform a Royal reception. He hastily erected a throne in the middle of the room, on which Clementina must sit. Then the Ministers and high political personages in turn approached the Queen and spoke a short address. Clementina, who knew them every one, could guess who each was from only a few words. Raimundo, having often been present at the meetings of Congress, had picked up the accent and gesture of each to the life. He was particularly happy in his imitation of Jimenez Arbos, whom he knew well from meeting him at the Osorios'. Of course, after each speech, he kissed the sovereign's hand with a reverent bow, and resumed the paper cocked-hat he had made for the occasion. These childish games amused the lady, and helped to open a heart which had always been closed by pride or ennui. She came away from their long interviews quite rejuvenescent, her eyes sparkling, her step lighter, and ready to bestow a nod on persons to whom as a rule she would vouchsafe only the coldest bow.