Clementina's friendship with Pepa had been closer than ever since the scene in the boudoir. The widow was convinced that the safety of her fortune depended on this intimacy, and did all she could to consolidate it. Thanks to this manœuvre she had, in fact, already recovered possession of a large part of it; nor was she now uneasy about the remainder. She knew that Doña Carmen had made her will in her step-daughter's favour, and though the Duchess had been rather stronger lately, her death ere long was a certainty, for the doctors had pronounced that nothing could save her but an operation, which she was too weak to undergo.
Pepa's cynical assurance was quite to Clementina's mind. They understood each other perfectly. They were a pair of hussies, grisettes born into a sphere of society for which Nature had never intended them. Pepa, of course, had a better right there than Clementina, who bore the taint in her blood. Pepa was an adventuress by predilection.
"Look here, Clem," said she as she devoured a slice of galantine of turkey. "Let that boy drop; he is not worth his salt. You have had enough of him for a mere whim."
"How do you know what he is worth?" replied Clementina laughing.
"By his face, my dear. He has been your acknowledged lover for above a year, and to this day he turns as red as a poppy whenever you look at him."
"That is exactly what I like him for."
Pepa shrugged her shoulders.
"Indeed? Well, I should find it intolerable."
"And Arbos? How does he behave?"
"Oh, he is a perfect goose, but at any rate he can keep his countenance. If you tell him he is a great man, there is nothing he will not do for you. He has found places for above a score of my connections. Then it is very nice to have some influence in the political world, and see deputies at one's feet. Yesterday, for instance, I had a visit from Manricio Sala, who has set his heart on being made under-secretary. He is quite certain, it would seem, that in that case Urreta would let his daughter marry him."