"Oh, forgive me, Clementina, I came here, hardly knowing what I was doing. I am so miserable;" and the tears streamed down her face.
"But what has happened then, my poor dear?"
"Nothing, nothing," sobbed the girl. There was a short silence. Clementina looked at her compassionately.
"Come," she said, leaning over her, "It is Emilio. He has done something to vex you this evening."
Irene made no reply.
"Do not break your heart over it, silly child. That will do nothing to mend matters. However great the effort, try to seem indifferent. That is the only way to prevent his despising you. Nay, there is a better way, but I do not advise you to try it; there are things one cannot advise. But still, even if you are in love with him, do not offer him your heart to wring, for God's sake! Never let him know how unhappy he makes you, or you are lost. Let him have his whim out, and he will come back to you."
Irene raised her face, bathed in tears.
"But have you seen—do you know what he has done? It is dreadful."
At this instant Clementina heard a step in the corridor, and suspecting who it might be, she hastily went to look out, saying: "Wait till I shut the door."
She was only just in time; Raimundo arrived at the moment; she put her finger to her lips, and signed to him to go away. Irene saw nothing of it.