"Oh, my sister is a saint!"
"You also can be one, my daughter. The road to perfection is open to all who wish to follow it...."
The girl received the counsels of the priest and of the others who were with him, but did not answer a word. She continued in the same way, not moving a finger, her face pale and distorted, and her eyes fixed. Her indifference began to cause them anxiety, and they told her father. The instant Don Mariano entered the room, she felt a shock, and suddenly jumping up she threw herself into his arms sobbing bitterly. She was saved.
The friends of the family, by dint of strong pressure, made Don Mariano and Martita go and rest for a few minutes, while the proper arrangements were made for laying out the body and for the funeral. Maria remained praying in her mother's room. The pale rays of the dawn found her still on her knees, with her face turned to heaven. The wax tapers which she herself had taken care to place around the deathbed were burning funereally, their crude yellow beams struggling with the languid light pouring into the room. No one dared to call her from her devout meditations; those who penetrated into the dressing-room and saw her in that attitude, whispered a few words of surprise, and retired silently with emotion and admiration.
Finally, all the outside people went away, and Maria shut herself in her room to take the rest which she so much needed, after the cruel series of changes and the great labors that she had undergone during the last few hours. At noon the father and his two daughters met in the dining-room, to begin the melancholy meal which all who have experienced a family affliction will recall with horror: a meal in which tears mingle with the food, and sobs fill the long intervals of silence. At this first meal scarcely any one spoke; no one ventured to lift his eyes lest they should meet those of the others, and only furtive, grief-stricken glances were cast at the place left vacant by the being who had just fled from this world forever. The courses were eaten mechanically, without appetite, and handkerchiefs were lifted to the eyes oftener than napkins to the lips; the rattle of the dishes cruelly wounded their ears, and the rare words exchanged fell from their lips tremulously and without animation. The spirit protested dumbly against the brutal necessity imposed upon it by the body, obliging it, by such a wretched act, to give over the expression of its bitter grief and break the current of its melancholy thoughts.
They arose from the table in the same silence. Maria shut herself in her room again. Don Mariano, accompanied by Martita, likewise went to his. They sat down together on a sofa, with their arms closely clasped about each other for the larger part of the afternoon; the caresses which they bestowed upon each other gradually changed their desperate sorrow into a most tender feeling, melting into tears. They took turns in consoling each other; the girl declared that her mother in heaven would be on the watch for them all, and promised to be always good and prudent, and never to cause her father sorrow; the father pressed her to his heart, and blessed her mother for having given him such good and beautiful daughters. When a servant came to tell them of the call of some ladies, they felt an unspeakable annoyance, a painful impression, as though they had been wakened from some melancholy sweet sorrow to plunge into despair again.
Don Mariano suspected the motive of the call. They wanted to distract their attention, so that they might not notice the noise made by the men in carrying the body from the house. And, in fact, a group of ladies and a few gentlemen endeavored, by repeated entreaties, to persuade them to go to more retired apartments; but their efforts, as far as Don Mariano was concerned, were in vain; he strenuously urged his friends, in a tone which gave no chance for reply, to leave him alone as they had done, but to take Martita with them.
Alone with his grief the Señor de Elorza felt more keenly his loss and more deeply his misfortune. In youth there is scarcely any loss that is not reparable; the passions, the feelings are more intense, but at the same time more transitory. One lives for the future, and through the darkest and most furious storms there never fails to shine some bright spot, promising consolation. But at the age which our caballero had reached hope is no more; the future exists not. Every misfortune undergone is a new pain, coming to join those that are past, and waiting for those that are to come: the affections which perish, like the hair that falls, find no substitute. Don Mariano, with eyes closed and head sadly bent upon his breast, let his thoughts fly back over all the events of his long life, and in all of them, whether fortunate or unlucky, he saw the image of his wife, the inseparable companion of his manhood. He saw her awakening in his youthful heart a passion at once tender and ardent: beautiful and pure as an angel, with delicate oval face and blue eyes, looking at him with love. He remembered perfectly the few times when he had had lover's quarrels with her, and the little reason that there had been for almost all of them. Gertrudis had such a peaceable disposition and such a gentle nature. It always ended in making her weep. He saw her on the day of his marriage, in her black satin (she was still in mourning for her father, the Marqués de Revollar) with which the fairness of her complexion and the gold of her hair made a dazzling contrast. A distinguished gentleman of Madrid, present at the wedding, taking him into a corner of the drawing-room, said to him: "Elorza, you are marrying one of the most beautiful women of Spain. I tell you so, and I have seen many in my life." The same day he started on a journey through foreign lands. He remembered, as though it were but yesterday, the intoxicating, ineffable impression, perhaps the sweetest and most blissful of his life, that he felt when he suddenly found himself alone with his beloved, as the coachman whipped up his horses, and they heard the farewells of the relations and friends, who sped them from the door of the palace of Revollar. How the poor little girl blushed when she realized that they were alone, and she in her lover's power! But he was polite and generous. He merely asked for one hand, and raised it timidly to his lips. All the enchanting details of that journey were imprinted on the Señor de Elorza's memory. Then he remembered the strange sensation of pleasure and surprise which he felt at the birth of his first child, and the deliciously cruel impression which his wife made upon him, by keeping him rigorously away from her during those moments of anguish. But, ay! in a short time poor Gertrudis became an invalid, and never recovered perfect health. In spite of this, his love for her had never grown cool; he took the greatest care of her, endeavoring, by all the means in his power, to alleviate her sufferings. She appreciated his sacrifices, seeing in him a Providence who always soothed her by his caresses. Even after many years had gone by, and when no one at all took any notice of the good lady's tribulations, still Don Mariano was the one who pitied her most, though he made believe look upon her attacks with disdain, and she comprehended it perfectly, and she still reserved for him in her heart the same privileged place as in her youth. The harmony of generous, warm sentiments in both, the affection which they had lavished upon their daughters, the deep esteem which they mutually felt, and the ever vivid recollection of their passionate loves, had been so woven into life that neither of them understood it without being side by side. It was the intimate, perfect, and absolute union ordained by God, such as men rarely heed.
A melancholy, ominous noise, heard through the walls of his room, caused him to raise his head, and fix his eyes on space. Yes, there could be no doubt; they were carrying her away, carrying her away. Don Mariano flung himself, face down, on the sofa, and hid his face in the cushions to choke his sobs.
"My wife! wife of my heart!... They are carrying you away ... carrying you away forever!... Ay! how terrible!"