"Poor Julia!"
"Yes, poor Julia! God grant that you may have no more reason to say that than now!"
During the two months that Don Alfonso spent in Madrid he amused himself to the utmost of his ability; his name, his figure, his money, and his notoriety as a fighter, which was in curious contrast to his smooth and peaceable character, gave him entrance into the most select society; he immediately became intimate with the most fashionable young ladies, and the houses where he called were the most aristocratic in the court circles.
When he was at his aunt's, instead of making parade of this, he never said where he was going nor where he had been, nor did he ever mention any episode that would betray it. On the contrary, he took particular pains to avoid speaking of high society, in which they did not move, so as to spare them the petty mortification which for some women is apt to be really painful.
He was the same extremely respectful gentleman toward his aunt, affable and gallant toward his cousin, although in all that he did he managed to show a peculiar haughty coolness, which is the quality best adapted for assuring success with the ladies.
One evening Julia, on entering the theatre, saw her cousin in the box of a duchess famous at that time for her beauty, her discretion, as well as her conquests.
The position which the two occupied, in the rear of the box, and bending toward each other until their cheeks almost touched, the insinuating smile on his face, and the flattered vanity which was expressed in hers, all made on the young girl such an impression that, for the moment, she was afraid of falling, and it was by mere force of will that she managed to reach their seats. When she had recovered from that painful surprise, she said to herself: "But what folly! Why should I feel such an impression if I have absolutely nothing in common with him? And even if he were my fiancé, what would there be peculiar in his talking with that lady?"
At that moment Saavedra gracefully waved them a salute with his hand. Julia replied with a forced smile.
The duchess turned around to see whom her friend was saluting, and levelled her opera-glass in a most impertinent fashion. Julia, being conscious of the stare, became so serious that it was pitiful to see her. And from the corner of her eye she noticed that the duchess, laying down her glass, bent toward her cousin and said a few words, to which he replied, looking toward her again. Then the lady said something more with a half-jesting smile, which caused Saavedra to reply with a cold smile and a gesture of displeasure.
"That woman has just been saying something about me," thought Julita; and she trembled to see Don Alfonso's gesture. A hot gust of anger flared up into her face, and giving them a proud and scornful glance, she murmured: "Say whatever you please; you will see how much I care for you!"