It was, in truth, the unlucky bridegroom, who came limping with difficulty into the room, his right foot still almost useless; the sharp pain of the dislocation, the result of his jump, being renewed every time he attempted to place it upon the ground. The habitual dignity of his bearing thus destroyed, his forty odd years revealed themselves in unmistakable characters in every feature of his face; the melancholy-looking black line of the mustache stood sharply defined against the withered skin; the eyelids drooping, the temples sunken, his hair in disorder, the ex-beau resembled one of those ruins, beautiful in the twilight, but which in the full noonday are seen to be only crumbling walls, nettles, brambles, and lizards. And as Lucía stood hesitating, unable either to utter a word of welcome or to throw herself into his arms, Gonzalvo, the constant censor of matrimony, terminated the strange situation by bursting out laughing and advancing to give a serio-comic embrace to the pitiable caricature of the returned husband.
CHAPTER VIII.
A few days’ sojourn in Bayonne sufficed to alleviate greatly the pain of Miranda’s foot and to make Pilar Gonzalvo and Lucía acquainted, and even in some degree intimate with each other. Like Miranda, Pilar was on her way to Vichy, with the difference that, while what Miranda required of the waters was that they should eliminate the bile from his system, the little Madridlenian was going to the health-giving springs in search of particles of iron to enrich her blood and restore the brilliancy to her lustrous eyes. Eager, like all people of weak and delicate organization, for novelty and excitement, the new friendship with Lucía, the curious incidents of the wedding journey, and the inspection of her bridal finery, which Pilar looked at, article by article, examining the lace on every jacket, the flounces on every dress, the initials on every handkerchief, served to divert her greatly. Besides, the frank simplicity of the Leonese offered a virgin and uncultivated soil in which to plant the exotic flowers of fashion, and the poison weeds of society scandal. Pilar, at the time we speak of twenty-three years old, had the precocious malice characteristic of young girls who, connected with the aristocracy, through their social relations, and belonging to the middle class, through their antecedents, are familiar with society in all its aspects, and can as easily discover who has given a rendezvous to a duke as who it is that corresponds with the neighbor on the third floor. Pilar Gonzalvo was tolerated in the distinguished houses of Madrid. To be tolerated is one of the degrees of social standing; to be received, as her brother was, is another degree; beyond being tolerated and received is the highest degree of all—to be courted; few enjoy the privilege of being courted; this being reserved for the notabilities who are chary of their society, who allow themselves to be seen once or twice a year; for the bankers and wealthy men who give balls, entertainments, and midnight masses, with a supper afterward; for beauties, during the brief and dazzling period of their full efflorescence; for politicians during the time when they are in power, like cards when they are trumps. There are cases of persons who have been received and who suddenly find themselves courted for some particular reason,—for inventing a new style of wearing the hair, on account of a winning horse, a whispered scandal of which they are the heroes, and which people fancy they can read in their faces.
Of these ephemeral successes Perico Gonzalvo had had many; his sister not one, in spite of repeated efforts on her part to obtain one. She did not succeed even in being tolerated or admitted. The world is wide for men, but narrow, narrow for women. Pilar always felt the invisible barrier that raised itself between her and those noblemen’s daughters whose brothers associated so familiarly with Perico. Hence sprung up in her breast a secret rancor that, struggling with admiration and envy, produced the nervous irritation that undermined the health of the Madridlenian. The fever of an unsatisfied desire, the pangs of wounded vanity, destroyed the equilibrium of a not very healthy or well-balanced organization. Like her brother, she had a skin of lymphatic whiteness, whose many freckles she concealed with cosmetics; her eyes were blue and expressive though not large, and her hair, which she had the art of arranging becomingly, was fair. Her ears, at this time, seemed made of wax, her thin lips appeared like a faint red line above the sallow chin, her blue veins showed under the skin and her gums, pale and flaccid, imparted to the sparse teeth the hue of old ivory. Spring had set in for her under very unfavorable auspices; the Lenten concerts and the last balls of the Easter holidays, of which she had not missed one, had cost her palpitations of the heart every night, indescribable weariness in the limbs, strange caprices of appetite; the anæmia was turning to neurosis; and Pilar masticated, in secret, bits of the clay statuettes that adorned the corner shelves of her dressing-room. She experienced intolerable pains in the epigastrium, but in order not to interrupt her amusements she was silent about all this. At last, as summer approached, she resolved to speak of her ailments, thinking, not without reason, that the malady offered a good pretext for taking a trip to the country, in conformity with the canons of good society. Pilar lived with her father and a paternal aunt, neither of whom was willing to accompany her; the father, a superannuated magistrate, being reluctant to leave the Bourse, where, on the sly, he speculated with moderation and success; the widowed aunt dreading the dissipations which her niece was no doubt planning as a part of the treatment. This task then devolved upon Perico Gonzalvo, who accompanied his sister to El Sardinero, counting upon finding there friends who would relieve him in his duties as escort. And so it was; there were plenty of acquaintances at the seashore, who undertook to keep Pilar constantly on the go and to take her everywhere. But, unfortunately for Perico, the sea baths, which in the beginning had been of service to his sister, ended, when she indulged in them to excess, wishing to swim and display her skill in the water, in inflicting serious injury on her delicate organization; and she began once more to suffer from lassitude, to awaken bathed in perspiration, to lose her appetite for plain food, while she ate voraciously of dainties. What most terrified her was to see that her hair had begun to fall out in handfuls. It enraged her every time she combed it, and she would scream out to Perico and tell him to bring her some remedy before she should become entirely bald. One day the physician who attended her took her brother aside and said to him: “You must be careful with your sister. Don’t let her take any more baths.”
“But is she seriously ill, seriously ill?” asked the young man, opening his small eyes to their fullest extent.
“She may become so in a short time.”
“The devil, the devil, the devil! Do you think she has consumption, consumption?”
“I do not say that. I do not think the lungs are affected as yet, but the moment least expected there will be a determination of blood to them, congestion will supervene and—— We see cases of that kind every day. The blood is greatly impoverished. She has the pulse of a chicken and there is present, besides, an extreme degree of nervous excitement, which increases periodically, with profound gastric disturbance. If you follow my advice you will avail yourselves of the autumn for a course of mineral waters.”
“Panticosa, Panticosa?”
“In this case I think the iron springs of Vichy preferable. Anæmia is the first enemy to be combatted, and the gastric symptoms are also benefited by those waters. After Vichy come Aguas Buenas and Puertollano; but attend to the matter at once. Within the last fortnight she has lost ground, and the falling of the hair and the sweats are very serious symptoms.”