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 passionate 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 anticipation 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 passion as a collector and naturalist, absorbed almost the whole of his time. It was a wonder indeed if he were seen in a café, 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 snatched 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."