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.

"In point of fact, I am treating this boy like a dancing bear."

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.

How would it all end? In nothing, probably. Nevertheless, she did her utmost to carry on the affair, and bring it to some definite issue; of that there is no doubt. And her wish being thwarted by causes which she could not clearly understand, it grew, till by degrees it became a fierce appetite. One afternoon, when disappointment and bitterness possessed her breast, as she was walking down the Calle de Serrano, seriously pondering on giving up this ridiculous adventure, as she passed beneath the window, after bowing to the young man seated there, she felt a handful of loose flowers fall upon her. She looked up, understanding that it was he who had flung them, and gave him a smile of tender gratitude. This shower refreshed her spirit and revived her drooping fancy. Now she only thought of some way of bringing him nearer to her. She thought of writing to beg his forgiveness for her visit and her stern words, but it was too late for that. Then she fancied that perhaps among her friends, particularly among journalists, there might be some one who would know him, and by whom she might send him some civil message. But this idea she dismissed as dangerous. She almost thought of giving him some signal to come down to her, and explaining herself verbally, but this again she did not dare. It was too humiliating.

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?"

It was but natural. Raimundo, when the curtain next fell, left his sister for a moment, and went up to the Osorios' box. A happy smile beamed on Clementina's face as she saw the young man at the door. She received him as an old friend, bade him sit down by her side, and began a conversation in an undertone, completely neglecting Pascuala whom she had brought with her. Happily for this lady, Bonifacio came in before long; he never took a stall at any theatre where he knew that the Osorios had a box.

"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.

Without leaving him time to reply, she inquired after his sister, his health, and his butterflies. Raimundo answered briefly, not out of indifference, but for lack of worldly ease of manner. But she was nothing daunted, she became more and more affectionate, entangling him in a perfect maze of flattering speeches and inviting glances. At the moment when she was most fluent, it might almost be said inspired to conquer her youthful adorer, suddenly, in the passage between the stalls, Pepe Castro appeared on the scene, in evening dress, the ends of his moustache waxed to needle points, the curls of his hair waving coquettishly over his temples, his whole air easy, self-sufficient, and scornful. He first cast his fascinating and Olympic eye over the stalls, subjugating every marriageable damsel who happened to be occupying one, and then, with the serene dignity of an eagle's soaring flight, he raised it to box number eleven. He could not suppress a start of surprise. Who was this with whom Clementina was on such intimate terms? He did not know this young man. He brought his diminutive opera-glasses to bear on him—no, he had never seen him in his life. Clementina, conscious of her lover's surprise, after returning his greeting, became doubly amiable to Raimundo, addressing herself solely to him, leaning over to speak to him, and going through endless manoeuvres to attract the attention of the illustrious "Savage." She felt a malignant glee in doing this. Castro was now absolutely indifferent to her. Raimundo returned Pepe's impertinent stare through his opera-glasses, by a curious glance now and then, for he had not the honour of knowing the "husband's bugbear!"

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.

Pepe Castro, when he saw him in the stalls, simply stared at him, hoping, perhaps to annihilate him. As he concluded that the red-haired youth did not belong to the elevated sphere in which he himself moved, it occurred to him—for his imagination was lively—that this might be the youth of whose pertinacity Clementina had formerly complained. As was but natural this did not prejudice him in AlcÁzar's favour. Raimundo himself was too much absorbed in contemplating the Osorios' box to notice his rival's determined stare, and Pepe, tired of it at last, went up to join Clementina. He seated himself by her side in the very place occupied shortly before by AlcÁzar, who, on seeing him there, was aware of a strange malaise, an obscure dejection which he did not even attempt to define. Nevertheless, he observed that the lady smiled a great deal, and that the gentleman was very grave, also that she found time to cast frequent glances in his direction, whereat her companion grew more and more sullen and gloomy.

"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.

For some days after this, the young entomologist anxiously expected Clementina to stop at the door, and come up to pay the promised visit. But he was disappointed. The lady constantly went by with her light brisk step, bowed as she approached, and before she turned the corner, waved him an adieu. Every time she passed the door, Raimundo's heart sank, and at last he grew angry. "Pshaw! She has forgotten all about it," he said to himself. "I shall never, probably, speak to her again, since we never by any chance meet anywhere."

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."

Poor Aurelia, bewildered by her visitor's condescension and unfamiliar worldly tone, could only smile in reply. When Clementina rose to go, she said:

"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.

Three or four days later Clementina again called to invite them both to her box at the Opera that evening. It was a terrible joy. Raimundo had not a dress coat, and Aurelia's wardrobe was not much better furnished. However, they went. A relation lent Raimundo a coat, and Aurelia wore the best she had. Next day Raimundo ordered a dress suit, of the first tailor in Madrid; nor was this all: without saying anything to his sister, he went to the box-office of the Opera-house and subscribed for a stall as near as possible to the Osorios' box, and for the same evenings.

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."

He thought of insulting the boy and provoking him to fight; but he soon saw that this could do him no good. What could he gain by it? Absolutely nothing, for Clementina would only hate him the more, and the scandal would betray his discomfiture—all the more ignominious for him, as his successful rival was a boy, whom no one knew anything about. So he came to the prudent conclusion that he would not wear his heart for daws to peck at, but would for a while leave his mistress to her own devices. By-and-by, perhaps, she would tire of playing with this pet lamb and call the sheep back to the fold.

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.

It may easily be supposed what his fate must inevitably be when a woman like Clementina—a beautiful and experienced coquette—had set her heart on conquest. At first his extreme bashfulness kept him from understanding the lady's aim and tactics. He took her gracious bows and inviting smiles for the expression of her sympathy with their orphaned loneliness. And when she had made friends with them, and shown him every indication of her liking, when his sister even had given him a warning hint, he still could not believe that there could be anything between them beyond a more or less affectionate good-fellowship, protecting and motherly on her side, devoted and ardent on his. However, the elixir of love which Clementina shed drop by drop on his lips, as it were, made its way to his heart. When he was least expecting it, he found that he was madly in love. But the discovery filled him with bashful fears, and he thought that he could never dare to declare it. Though his idol's demeanour towards him, and constant demonstrations of sympathetic regard were enough to justify any hopes on his part, it seemed to him so strange as to be impossible that a shy and inexperienced man, devoid of all worldly advantages, should find favour with so rich and so beautiful a woman. Nor could he entirely free himself from the remorse which stung him from time to time. It was her resemblance to his mother which had first attracted him in Clementina. Was not his passion a profanation?

But in spite of his remorse, of his timidity, and of his reason, Raimundo felt himself every day more enslaved by this woman. Clementina, to be sure, brought every weapon into play; and she had many at her disposal. In proportion as she found her youthful adorer more bashful, her own audacity and coolness increased. This is almost always the case, but in the present instance, circumstances made the contrast all the more conspicuous. Timidity in him amounted to a disease, a peculiarity which he full well knew to be ridiculous while he could not overcome it; on the contrary, the greater the efforts he made, the more his nervousness betrayed itself. At first he could speak to her with sufficient calmness, and could allow himself some little compliment or jest, but he had now lost all his presence of mind, he could not go near her without losing his head, nor take her hand without trembling; if she did but look at him his cheeks tingled.

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.

Thus our young friend was regarded as amant en titre to Clementina before he had dared to kiss her finger-tips, or even dreamed of it. He was perfectly miserable if she was in the least disdainful, and was as happy as an angel if she made the smallest show of affection. Clementina was in no hurry to hear his declaration, though fully determined that he should make it. It amused her to watch the progress of the affair, noting the development of his passion, and the phenomena to which it gave rise. She had had her fill of ravings, and thought it delightful to be adored with this dumb devotion, and play the part of a goddess. A mere glance was enough to turn this worshipper red or pale, a word made him happy or reduced him to despair.

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.

But then, one evening—whether because she was out of temper or because it was her pleasure to mortify him—she treated him with such contempt all the time he was in the box, leaving him to entertain Pascuala while she chatted with some more aristocratic youth of her acquaintance, that poor Raimundo was thrown into despair. He had not even courage enough to take leave; he stood, pale and crestfallen, a frown of anxiety furrowing his brow. Clementina stole a glance at him from time to time. When the other gentleman made his bow, Raimundo, too, was about to take leave. The lady detained him, holding his hand.

"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.

"Yes, I have known it for some time," she went on in a still lower voice, and speaking into his ear. "But there is something which you do not know. And that is, that I care for you."

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.

From that memorable evening Raimundo could think of nothing but Clementina. To him the whole world had shrunk into one person, and that person a woman. Not only did he live and breathe for her, but he thought of her all day and dreamed of her all night. At first the lady had received him at her own house, but she, ere long, thought this unwise, and they took rooms in a neighbouring Street, a small entresol, which they furnished with taste.

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.

SeÑora de Osorio persisted in the lavish expenditure she had always indulged in, notwithstanding the rumours of imminent ruin which had so greatly alarmed Pepa Frias. But the catastrophe did not come as had been prophesied. The banker contrived to stave it off, giving it to be understood by those who had money in his hands that there was nothing to be got by falling on him tooth and nail, as they would not by such means save one quarter of their capital. On the other hand, they had only to wait to recover every penny. His wife must, ere long, come into an immense fortune. His creditors listened to reason, kept their own counsel as to the state of his affairs, and only stipulated that Clementina's signature should be affixed, as well as her husband's, to every renewed bill. Soon after, fortune favoured Osorio in the turns of the money-market, and he was able to launch out once more, though men of business looked askance at his dealings, and unanimously declared that the crash was only deferred. His wife, feeling that she was safe at any rate, thought no more of such unpleasant subjects. It was only when she went to her father's house and saw DoÑa Carmen's pale, worn face, that her heart throbbed with a feeling which she was loth to confess even to herself, and which she strove to drown under the sound of affectionate words and kisses.

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."

Clementina dared not insist. She took the pocket-book, turned out the bank-notes, and returned it to him. There was a pause of embarrassed silence. Raimundo sat with his elbow on the table, his cheek in his hand, serious and thoughtful. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes, half angry and half curious.

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.

But still, in spite of his three-and-twenty years, there was something childlike about the lad which was an infinite delight to his mistress. It was due chiefly to his solitary and effeminate youth. He was very easily taken in, and as easily amused; he never had those fits of black boredom which afflict the spoilt worldling; he never uttered one of the caustic and ironical speeches which are common even on a lover's lips. His glee was effervescent and boyish to the verge of the ridiculous. He thought it fun to play follow-my-leader behind Clementina in their little lodgings, or to hide and startle her. He would entertain her with conjuring tricks, which perhaps showed some intelligence; or they would play at cards with absorbed attention, as though they were gambling for large sums; or they would dance to the music of some grinding organ, that had stopped within hearing. Then they would eat bon-bons for a match, seeing who would get through most. One day he was bent on making pine-apple ice; he declared that he was great at making ices. All the apparatus was borrowed from a cafÉ in the neighbourhood, and after stirring and turning for some time, he at last turned out an ugly and untempting mass, which so greatly depressed him that Clementina actually swallowed a large dose of the liquid. He was fond of mimicking the accent and manner of any one he had met at her house; and this he did to such perfection, that Clementina laughed with all her heart; nay, she sometimes entreated him to cease, for it hurt her to laugh so much. Raimundo had the gift of observing the most trifling peculiarities of the persons he met, and imitating them to perfection. It was difficult to believe that the person mimicked was not speaking. However, it was only in the strictest confidence that he displayed this accomplishment.

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.

And then Raimundo would amaze her by some inconceivably childish and innocent proceeding. One day, when she noiselessly entered their rooms—for each had a key—she found him industriously sweeping the floor. He blushed to the ears with confusion, at being discovered. Clementina, in fits of laughter, covered his face with kisses.

"Really, child, you are too delightful!" she exclaimed.