Froth Part 15

Long before that, when he was no more than ten years old his grandfather died. Thus, by the time he was sixteen, he had to play the part of the man in the house. He took his mother to the theatre, accompanied her in paying visits, and sometimes in the evening, when the weather was fine, he took her out for a walk, giving her his arm like her husband or sweetheart. Isabel's beauty did not desert her with years. Those who saw them together never supposed they could be mother and son, but rather sister and brother, if not a married pair. This was the cause of some distress to the lad. As in Madrid men are not remarkable for respect for the fair s.e.x, he used to overhear, in spite of himself, complimentary speeches, or even bold addresses from the pa.s.sers-by to his mother. And as he heard them, he felt a strange mixture of shame and pleasure, of jealousy and pride; the position of a son in such a case is extremely peculiar and embarra.s.sing.

Old Martinez, his grandfather, after retiring from business, had lost all his savings. They had been invested partly in a gunpowder-making company which had failed, and partly in Government stock. All he had to leave was an income of from seven to eight thousand pesetas.

On this the three lived very thriftily, though they did not lack the necessaries of life. On a second floor in the Calle de Gravina, Raimundo pursued his scientific studies. He hoped to become a professor, like his father, and, seeing how brilliantly he pa.s.sed every examination, no one doubted that he soon would attain that position; but, instead of turning his attention to geology, he preferred the study of zoology, and more especially that of b.u.t.terflies. He began making a collection, and displayed so much eagerness and intelligence that, before long, he was possessed of a very fine one. Before he had left college he was already remarkable as an entomologist. The walls of his room were lined with cabinets, containing the rarest and most precious specimens. For two years he saved up his pocket-money to buy a microscope, and at last was able to purchase a fairly good one, which was as useful as it was delightful. The day he took his doctor's degree, when he was just one-and-twenty, Isabel experienced one of those joys that mothers alone can know. She embraced him, shedding a flood of tears.

"Now, mamma," said he, "I am qualified to compete for a professorship. I shall devote myself to preparing for it, and as soon as I succeed I shall renounce anything you may be able to leave me in favour of Aurelia. I have few wants, and can live on my salary."

These generous words went to the mother's heart; she found fresh reason every day for adoring this model son.

Raimundo now plunged into his studies with ardour, working up the special branches required without neglecting his entomology. Thanks to this, and to the honoured name of his father, he was soon eminent among men of science. He wrote some papers, corresponded with various foreign _savants_, and had the satisfaction of receiving from them the most encouraging praises. He was, it may be said, a happy man. He had no desires for the impossible to devour his soul, no tormenting love-affairs, or intrusive friends; he enjoyed the peace of home-life, the love of his family, and the pure delights of science; his days glided on in tranquillity and happiness. His mother's friends were amazed at such virtuous simplicity. Had Raimundo no love entanglement?

Did he not care for women? And Isabel would reply with a smile of evident satisfaction:

"I do not know. I believe he has never yet thought of such a thing. He is so tied to my ap.r.o.n-string that he is like a child of three. He would find it hard, to be sure, to meet with a woman who would love him as I do."

And it was as she said. She kept him wrapped in such an atmosphere of protection, of warm and loving care, as he could never have found with a wife, however devoted she might be. Only mothers have this gift of absolute and unwearying self-sacrifice, never hoping for or dreaming of a return. Raimundo's every need of a practical kind was satisfied with a refined completeness which few men enjoy. He had never known what it was to have to think how he was fed, clothed, and shod, or to take any care for necessaries such as many women do not understand. Every detail of his life was foreseen and arranged for him. He might devote himself wholly to the exercise of his intellect. If he complained of a taste in his mouth, his mother was at his bedside early in the morning with an effervescing saline draught; if his head ached there was a soothing drink at bed-time. If he coughed in the night, ever so little, Isabel could not rest till she had stolen into his room in her nightshift to see that he had not thrown off his bedclothes. As soon as Aurelia was old enough she too helped her mother in the task of averting every pain and removing even the tiniest thorns from the young entomologist's path.

Unhappily--though we might also say very naturally, since happiness cannot last in this world--this blissful course of life came to a sudden end. Isabel fell ill of bronchitis which she could not completely shake off, either because she neglected it or because the physician had hesitated to apply sufficiently severe treatment. It left her with a catarrh of the lungs which weakened her greatly. Then, by the doctor's advice, she went to the baths of Panticosa with Raimundo, leaving Aurelia in the care of some relations. She rallied a little, but fell ill again within a few days of returning to Madrid. She was then visibly failing; so much so that her friends could plainly see that she was dying. Never for a moment did such a notion enter her son's head. His life was so bound up with hers that the two seemed as one. Things went on as they almost always do with the sick who do not know that they are dying. Isabel, though very weak, carried on the housekeeping with her usual care. Raimundo, indeed, had entreated her, and then, taking advantage of his influence over her, had commanded her to rest; but she, evading his vigilance, and prompted by the invincible impulse which busy natures feel to be doing something, would not give up her duties. One day, when she was already almost dying, Raimundo found her on her knees dusting the legs of a table. He was quite horrified, and, chiding her affectionately, helped her up with many kisses.

A pious friend, who came to see her, thought proper to hint to her that she ought to confess. Isabel was painfully impressed; her son, coming in, found her weeping, and flew into a rage, breaking out vehemently against all such bigots. However, the sick woman, who was beginning to understand her danger, insisted gently but firmly on the priest being sent for. Raimundo, much annoyed, sent for the doctor to uphold him in his refusal. The physician at first replied evasively, then he said that it was at any rate being on the right side, that if strong people were liable to sudden death much more were the sickly.

But even now light did not dawn on the young man's apprehension. After seeing the priest, Isabel went on as before, and this contributed to keep up his delusion. She rose in the morning, ate at table with them, went into the sitting-room on her son's arm, and spent the chief part of the day in an armchair. At the same time she was so excessively thin that those who saw her only at long intervals were quite shocked. And yet she did not lose her beauty; on the contrary, it seemed to have increased, her complexion was clearer and more delicate, and her eyes brighter.

One morning she said she would rather not get up. Raimundo sat down by her bed reading a novel. She presently said:

"I am uncomfortable. Lift me up a little; I have no strength."

He rose to do it, and at that very instant his mother's head drooped on one side and she was dead, without a sigh, without the smallest gesture or sign of suffering--like a bird, to use a vulgar but expressive phrase.

The young man's despairing cry brought in the people of the house.

Some relations took him and his sister away to their own home; in the state of stupor in which he was, there was no difficulty in getting him to go whithersoever they would. That same evening some of his college friends came to see him and found him in fairly good spirits, which amazed them, knowing the pa.s.sionate devotion to his mother he had always professed. He discussed scientific matters for a long time, expressing himself with greater volubility than usual. This led them to suspect that he was under the influence of some violent excitement, and the suspicion was confirmed when he proposed to play at cards. They yielded, but presently the young fellow began to talk quite at random.

"What do you think of the game, mamma?" he asked of a lady who was playing.

All those present looked at each other with consternation and pity.

After this he became quite incoherent. His excitement increased, he began laughing so wildly that no one could doubt that it must end in a violent nervous attack. And, in fact, when they least expected it, he started from his seat, ran to the window, threw it open, and would have flung himself from the balcony, if they had not stopped him. This ended in acute hysterics, which happily were soon over, and then to collapse, compelling him to remain in bed three or four days.

Time at last exerted its soothing power. At the end of a fortnight he was well again, though a prey to extreme dejection, from which his relations and friends vainly strove to rouse him.

His uncle proposed that the brother and sister should continue to live with him, since Raimundo was young to be at the head of a house, and especially to guard and guide Aurelia. He was now three-and-twenty and she eighteen. But neither of them would listen to the plan. They would live alone and together. They took third floor rooms in the Calle de Serrano, very pretty and sunny, and thither they transferred their furniture; once installed there they continued their former life, sadly, no doubt, under the ever present remembrance of their mother, but calmly and contentedly. Raimundo centred all his thoughts and care in Aurelia.

Anxious to fulfil his part as father and protector to the young girl, he did for her what his mother had hitherto done for him, surrounding her with kindness, and cherishing her with a tenderness which touched all who saw them. Aurelia was not beautiful nor particularly clever, but for her brother she felt the pa.s.sionate adoration she had inherited from her mother. Nevertheless, in the details of daily life the young man sorely missed his mother. Aurelia did her utmost to prevent his feeling her absence, but she was far from achieving the same delicate antic.i.p.ation of his needs. By degrees she became more expert in the management of the house, and Raimundo, on his part, did not look for the refined comfort of a past time. The feeling of guardianship, and the consciousness of his own duties towards his sister, made him think less of himself. If, on the other hand, some little attention from Aurelia came to him as a surprise he accepted it as though from a child. Thus their lives supplemented each other.

They lived humbly; their rent came to twenty dollars; they kept a single maid. Thus their little income of twelve hundred dollars was sufficient for their needs. As it was derived from dividends on State securities and shares in a manufactory, it was regularly paid. Raimundo was able to dedicate himself with renewed ardour to his studies; he longed to fulfil to his sister the promise he had made his mother, of renouncing his share of their inheritance, and saving for her a little fortune which might enable her to marry well. Ever since his illness he had gone twice a week to lay flowers on his mother's grave; on Sundays he took Aurelia with him. As a rule he went out very little. The studies requisite to fit him to compete for a professorship on the one hand, and on the other his pa.s.sion as a collector and naturalist, absorbed almost the whole of his time. It was a wonder indeed if he were seen in a cafe, and being in mourning he did not go to the play.

One day when he happened to be at a bookseller's in the Carrera San Jeronimo, where he frequently amused himself by turning over new works from abroad, an elegantly dressed woman came into the shop. Raimundo's eyes dilated at the vision, resting on her with such a fixed look of admiration, that she was fain to turn away. While she bought a few French novels he contemplated her with rapture and emotion; the book he was holding shook in his hand. As she went out he hastily laid it down to follow her; but a carriage was waiting for her. The man-servant, hat in hand, opened the door, and the horses instantly s.n.a.t.c.hed her from his sight.

"What is it, Don Raimundo?" said the bookseller, as he came into the shop again. "Are you struck by my fair customer?"

The young man smiled to conceal his agitation, and replied with feigned indifference:

"Who could fail to notice such a beautiful creature? Who is she?"

"Do not you know her? She is the wife of a banker named Osorio, and Salabert's daughter."

"Ah! Salabert's daughter! Then she lives in that palace in the Avenue de Luchana?"

"No, Senor. She lives in the Calle don Ramon de la Cruz."

He wanted no more. Away he went. This lady bore a singular likeness to his mother. The state of his mind, still grieving and sore, made the resemblance seem to him greater than it really was, and it impressed him vividly. A few minutes later he was walking up and down in front of the Osorios' house; but he did not succeed in catching another glimpse of the lady. The next day he went to walk in the Retiro, and there again he met her. Thenceforth he watched and followed her with a constancy which betrayed the strong hold she had on his feelings. Though he at no time forgot his mother's face, Clementina Salabert brought it yet more vividly before him, and this gave him a pathetic pain in which he revelled, paradoxical as it may seem. But any one who has lost a loved face from the world will understand it; there is a kind of luxury in uncovering the wound, and renewing the pain and regret. Raimundo could not gaze long at Clementina's features without feeling the tears on his cheeks; and this, perhaps, was why he so constantly sought her. In her face there was indeed a hardness and severity which his mother's had never had; but when she smiled and all sternness vanished the resemblance was really amazing.

Our young man was well aware of the annoyance his pursuit caused her. At the same time he could not help laughing to himself at her misapprehension of the case. "If this lady could know," he would say to himself, as he saw her lips curl with scorn, "why she fascinates me so much, how great would her astonishment be!" A current of attraction, it might be said of adoration, drew him to her. But for her forbidding dignity, he might very possibly have addressed her, have explained to her the strange consolation he derived from her presence. But Clementina moved in so distant a sphere that he dreaded her contempt. It was enough that she should so evidently scorn him for his joy in beholding her. On the other hand, he had heard rumours greatly to her discredit; but he took no pains to confirm them--in the first place, because they did not concern him, and also because if they proved to be true he would be compelled to think ill of her, and he could not bear that a woman so like his mother should be, in fact, disreputable. He would know nothing, he would be content to indulge, as often as he could, that strange longing to revive his grief and move himself to tears. As he did not live in fashionable society and could not go to the theatre to procure this satisfaction, he had no choice but to haunt her in the streets or the parks when she was out driving. He also attended Ma.s.s on Sundays at the Jeronymite church, and there he could contemplate her at his ease and leisure.

He had told Aurelia of his discovery, but he had not pointed the lady out to her. He was afraid lest Aurelia should not see the likeness so clearly as he did, and should thus despoil him of his illusion.

Clementina went out walking two or three times a week, in the afternoon, as she had done on the day when we made her acquaintance. Raimundo, from the window of his study in the Calle de Serrano spied her approach, as from an observatory, and when he discerned her from afar, down he went to follow her as far as he could. This persecution vexed the lady all the more, as it was at this hour that she went to visit her lover. Not that it was a matter of any particular importance that this new connection should become known, but for a remnant of shame which survived in her. No woman, however unblushing, can bear to be seen entering her lover's dwelling.

Moreover, she knew, for she had heard it quite lately, that a husband who, finding out his wife's guilt, kills her on the spot, is held excused. Now, as she knew that Osorio hated her, she was afraid lest he might take advantage of this excuse to get rid of her. These vague terrors, added to that residue of decency, increased her rage against Raimundo. Her violent and imperious temper rose in arms at this unforeseen interference. She had not even paid any particular attention to the young man's appearance. She hated him without troubling herself to look at him. His indifference and submission to the utter contempt which she did not attempt to conceal, was also an offence. It was evident that this youngster was making game of her; if he were love-stricken he could not possibly show so much serene cynicism. No doubt he had discovered that he annoyed her, and meant to insult her out of revenge. And beyond a doubt he succeeded perfectly. The turns she was compelled to take in order to elude him, the visits she paid against her will, and all the terrors his pursuit cost her, rendered him more odious to her every day, and made her blood boil. She went out in the carriage, drove to the Calatravas church, and there dismissed it; but Raimundo, after being deprived for some days of the sight of her, committed the extravagance of taking a hackney coach to keep up with her.

This enraged her beyond measure, and she determined to put an end to the intolerable persecution, though she did not know how. At first she asked Pepe Castro to speak to the youth and threaten him; but on seeing how coolly he took the proposal, she indignantly determined never to return to the subject. Then she thought of addressing him herself in the street, and desiring him, in a few words of freezing scorn, to annoy her no more. But when the opportunity offered she dared not--though timidity was not her besetting sin--the predicament seemed too delicate.

She was still in this state of doubt and hesitancy, when one day, as she went down the Calle de Serrano, happening to look up, she spied the enemy on the look out, high above her. This suggested to her the idea of asking his name and writing to him. And with the vehemence which prompted all her actions she immediately went in, and inquired of the porter:

"Would you be so good as to tell me who lives on the third floor here?"

"A lady and gentleman, both quite young; a brother and sister. They have been here only four months; they are orphans. Not long since, it would seem----"

The woman, seeing so elegant a lady, was ready to be communicative; but Clementina cut her short by asking:

"What is the gentleman's name?"

"Don Raimundo Alcazar."

"Many thanks." And she hurried away.

She went out into the street, but it struck her that writing to him would have its disadvantages, and that a verbal explanation would really be more satisfactory, since no one of her acquaintance could know anything about it. For a moment she paused in doubt; then she abruptly faced about and went in again. She pa.s.sed the portress without saying a word, and lightly ran upstairs. On reaching the third floor, in spite of her determined spirit, her courage was somewhat dashed, and she was on the point of retreating. But her proud and haughty temper spurred her on, as she reflected that the young man must have seen her come in and would suspect her repentance.

There were two doors on the landing. One set of rooms, as Clementina had observed, was to let, so she decided on knocking at the door on the left, since there was a mat outside--plain proof that it was inhabited.

A maid answered the summons, and Clementina asked for Don Raimundo Alcazar.

"I wish to see him" she added, on learning that he was at home.

The girl showed her into the drawing-room, and as the visit struck her as strange, she asked whether she should announce it to the Senorita.

"No. Tell Don Raimundo I want to speak to him."

He, meanwhile, was sitting in his study, in a state of extreme agitation. On first seeing the lady enter the house, he had been startled without exactly knowing why. He recovered himself on seeing her depart, and was again excited when she came back. The idea that she might be coming up to his rooms flashed across his mind, but he immediately dismissed it as improbable. She must no doubt have come to call on one of the residents on the first or second floor, who were persons of fashion. Still, in spite of all reason, he could not be calm.

When he heard the door-bell, he was aghast; he could hardly get so far as the ante-room, and before he could give the maid a sign, she had opened the door, compelling him to beat a hasty retreat. He was tempted to say he was not at home, even though the lady was in the sitting-room; but, after all, he made up his mind to go to her, reflecting that he had no rational motive for refusing.