Froth: A Novel

by Armando Palacio Valdés

"Ah! Salabert's daughter! Then she lives in that palace in the Avenue de Luchana?"

"No, Señor. She lives in the Calle don Ramon de la Cruz."

He wanted no more. Away he went. This lady bore a singular likeness to his mother. The state of his mind, still grieving and sore, made the resemblance seem to him greater than it really was, and it impressed him vividly. A few minutes later he was walking up and down in front of the Osorios' house; but he did not succeed in catching another glimpse of the lady. The next day he went to walk in the Retiro, and there again he met her. Thenceforth he watched and followed her with a constancy which betrayed the strong hold she had on his feelings. Though he at no time forgot his mother's face, Clementina Salabert brought it yet more vividly before him, and this gave him a pathetic pain in which he revelled, paradoxical as it may seem. But any one who has lost a loved face from the world will understand it; there is a kind of luxury in uncovering the wound, and renewing the pain and regret. Raimundo could not gaze long at Clementina's features without feeling the tears on his cheeks; and this, perhaps, was why he so constantly sought her. In her face there was indeed a hardness and severity which his mother's had never had; but when she smiled and all sternness vanished the resemblance was really amazing.

Our young man was well aware of the annoyance his pursuit caused her. At the same time he could not help laughing to himself at her misapprehension of the case. "If this lady could know," he would say to himself, as he saw her lips curl with scorn, "why she fascinates me so much, how great would her astonishment be!" A current of attraction, it might be said of adoration, drew him to her. But for her forbidding dignity, he might very possibly have addressed her, have explained to her the strange consolation he derived from her presence. But Clementina moved in so distant a sphere that he dreaded her contempt. It was enough that she should so evidently scorn him for his joy in beholding her. On the other hand, he had heard rumours greatly to her discredit; but he took no pains to confirm them—in the first place, because they did not concern him, and also because if they proved to be true he would be compelled to think ill of her, and he could not bear that a woman so like his mother should be, in fact, disreputable. He would know nothing, he would be content to indulge, as often as he could, that strange longing to revive his grief and move himself to tears. As he did not live in fashionable society and could not go to the theatre to procure this satisfaction, he had no choice but to haunt her in the streets or the parks when she was out driving. He also attended Mass on Sundays at the Jeronymite church, and there he could contemplate her at his ease and leisure.

He had told Aurelia of his discovery, but he had not pointed the lady out to her. He was afraid lest Aurelia should not see the likeness so clearly as he did, and should thus despoil him of his illusion. Clementina went out walking two or three times a week, in the afternoon, as she had done on the day when we made her acquaintance. Raimundo, from the window of his study in the Calle de Serrano spied her approach, as from an observatory, and when he discerned her from afar, down he went to follow her as far as he could. This persecution vexed the lady all the more, as it was at this hour that she went to visit her lover. Not that it was a matter of any particular importance that this new connection should become known, but for a remnant of shame which survived in her. No woman, however unblushing, can bear to be seen entering her lover's dwelling.

Moreover, she knew, for she had heard it quite lately, that a husband who, finding out his wife's guilt, kills her on the spot, is held excused. Now, as she knew that Osorio hated her, she was afraid lest he might take advantage of this excuse to get rid of her. These vague terrors, added to that residue of decency, increased her rage against Raimundo. Her violent and imperious temper rose in arms at this unforeseen interference. She had not even paid any particular attention to the young man's appearance. She hated him without troubling herself to look at him. His indifference and submission to the utter contempt which she did not attempt to conceal, was also an offence. It was evident that this youngster was making game of her; if he were love-stricken he could not possibly show so much serene cynicism. No doubt he had discovered that he annoyed her, and meant to insult her out of revenge. And beyond a doubt he succeeded perfectly. The turns she was compelled to take in order to elude him, the visits she paid against her will, and all the terrors his pursuit cost her, rendered him more odious to her every day, and made her blood boil. She went out in the carriage, drove to the Calatravas church, and there dismissed it; but Raimundo, after being deprived for some days of the sight of her, committed the extravagance of taking a hackney coach to keep up with her.

This enraged her beyond measure, and she determined to put an end to the intolerable persecution, though she did not know how. At first she asked Pepe Castro to speak to the youth and threaten him; but on seeing how coolly he took the proposal, she indignantly determined never to return to the subject. Then she thought of addressing him herself in the street, and desiring him, in a few words of freezing scorn, to annoy her no more. But when the opportunity offered she dared not—though timidity was not her besetting sin—the predicament seemed too delicate.

She was still in this state of doubt and hesitancy, when one day, as she went down the Calle de Serrano, happening to look up, she spied the enemy on the look out, high above her. This suggested to her the idea of asking his name and writing to him. And with the vehemence which prompted all her actions she immediately went in, and inquired of the porter:

"Would you be so good as to tell me who lives on the third floor here?"

"A lady and gentleman, both quite young; a brother and sister. They have been here only four months; they are orphans. Not long since, it would seem——"