Frederick and Dolores walked briskly along arm in arm. The path was narrow and there was just room for two people to pass between the precipice and the tall hawthorn hedges intermingled with bowlders of fallen rocks, from between which here and again there rose great stone pines, relics of those wild pine woods which, before the modern culture had appeared on the scene with ax and spade, had doubtless covered the whole of the table land.
Suddenly at a sharp curve of the path they came face to face with a lady and gentleman who were approaching from the opposite direction. The lady was young and rather good-looking; the gentleman was old, and his hair and mustache were snow-white, but his erect bearing and still firm step belied his age. He was a tall, aristocratic-looking man, with piercing blue eyes, and gave one the impression of being an officer in plain clothes. In the button-hole of his light gray frock-coat was the rosette of the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor. Frederick pulled Dolores on one side to make room for the strangers, but as he did so he became pale to the very lips. Involuntarily he bared his head and made a rapid movement toward the old gentleman. But he was met by so haughty a gaze that he lowered his eyes and, forgetting the astonished Dolores, he walked quickly on. He had recognized his father, General Count von Waldberg, from whom he had parted under such painful circumstance eleven years before.
CHAPTER XXIII.
REACHING THE CLIMAX.
From this time forth Frederick commenced to go, from a moral standpoint, more and more down hill. On returning to Madrid he lived fast and recklessly, neglecting Dolores and spending his nights in gambling-hells, where he lost piles of money. On several occasions he was forced to appeal to his father-in-law to pay his debts of honor. The old gentleman came to his rescue without a murmur, his intense love for his daughter preventing him from using harsh words toward the husband whom she still continued to adore, notwithstanding the ever-increasing neglect with which he treated her. It is true that Dolores, having ceased going much into society, did not hear about the numerous successes of her lord among the demi-monde, but his once courteous and deferential behavior to her had now given place to continual irritability, and to never-ending quarrels about money and other domestic matters.
At last the climax came. Frederick, after a particularly unlucky week, during which he had sustained heavier losses than ever, finding it impossible to obtain the sum which he urgently required, actually went so far as to forge his father-in-law's name for the amount of 25,000 francs. Don Garces y Marcilla, giving way to the entreaties of his daughter, who threw herself at his feet, paid the amount and saved Frederick from prison and disgrace; but he declared to Dolores that if she did not leave her husband and return to the shelter of his house he would disown her and never see her again. There was a terrible scene; but Dolores was immovable, and refused to abandon the man she loved, although she could no longer either respect or esteem him. Her father, who was a violent man, drove her from the home of her childhood, and warned her if she ever dared to cross his threshold again he would have her turned away by his servants.
The situation had now become a truly desperate one. Frederick sold his horses and carriages, his furniture, and valuable bric-a-brac—yes, even his wife's jewels and costly dresses, and moved with her to a small house in the outskirts of Madrid. Unknown to her, however, he hired a suite of rooms in a fashionable street, and, going into partnership with two disreputable adventurers, he started a private gambling hell.
Poor Dolores! her days of happiness were over. She was now always alone in the dingy little house in the suburbs. Weeping and privations were fast robbing her of her beauty, and Frederick, whenever he looked at her, which was seldom, had the cruelty to taunt her with what he called “her washed-out appearance!” He bitterly complained of having married a woman who was of no earthly use to him.