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.
And it did not occur to either of them that the embrace and kiss were those of a corpse—the corpse of a good and generous woman.
CHAPTER IX.
RAIMUNDO'S LOVE AFFAIRS.
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.