"Well, we shall see how the farce ends."

Osorio shrugged his shoulders.

"We have seen the end, I suspect."

And he was right.

The Duke never paid them a cent., and never again spoke of his daughter's fortune. He was very affectionate, and constantly had them to dine with him, complaining of his loneliness. Now and then he spoke of transactions he was engaged in, but not a word of paying them their share. Clementina was at last so much provoked that she suddenly ceased going to the house. They then took to exchanging notes. Nothing was to be got out of her father but ambiguous replies and vague hopes. Finally they decided on taking legal steps, and a lawsuit began, which was a source of endless satisfaction to the faculty.

This was an end of all joy or comfort for Clementina. She lived in a state of perpetual ferment, watching the progress of the litigation with anxious interest, communicating with the lawyers, and trying to exert some influence which might counterbalance the Duke's. He, on his part, took the matter much more calmly, conducted it with maddening ac.u.men, taking advantage of her displays of violence to represent her in the eyes of the world as a greedy and unnatural daughter. At the same time, among his intimate acquaintances, he would now and then give utterance to some sarcastic or cynical speech which, when it reached her ears, made her wild with rage. The struggle became more desperate every day, while, on the other hand, Osorio's creditors, deceived in their hopes, began to press him very hard, and threatened to bring him to ruin. The torments, the tempers, the wretched state of things in the Osorio household may be easily imagined.

This discomfort, and it might be called misery, extended to the hapless Raimundo. Clementina, torn soul and body by a tumult of other pa.s.sions, found no leisure for the blandishments of love. The minutes she could spare for them were every day briefer and less calm. The gay _tete-a-tetes_ and merry devices of a former time were over for ever.

The lady no longer found any amus.e.m.e.nt in laughing at her boyish lover.

She did not seem even to remember the childish pleasures in which they had delighted. She could talk of nothing now but the lawsuit. Her nerves were in such a state of tension that an inadvertent word might put her into a furious rage. And, besides all this, in her vehement desire for triumph over her father, she flirted more than ever with Escosura, who had just come into office; and this, as may be supposed, was what most distressed the young naturalist.

One day, when she was rather more fond than usual, she said in loving accents:

"You are still jealous of Escosura, Raimundo? But it is quite a mistake.

I do not care a straw for the man."

"Yes, so you have often told me, and yet----"

"There is no 'and yet' in the case, fastidious youth!" she interrupted, gently pulling his ear. "I never loved, and never could love any one but you. But--here comes the but--you alas! are not in power, though you deserve to be more than any one I know. My fortune, as you know, is at the mercy of the law, and I may be told any day that I am a beggar.

Accustomed as I am to comfort and luxury, you may imagine how much I should relish this. And my pride, too, would suffer, for I am the object of much invidious feeling; people hate me without knowing why. In short, I should be laughed at, and that I could not endure. My father has a great many supporters. Men count on him for services, though he is utterly incapable of a kindness, and they are afraid of him too. Now I, though on intimate terms with all the official circle of Madrid, have not one true friend to take a real interest in my affairs, or dare to show a bold front to my father. And so, you see, I must try to make one.

Now imagine this friend to be Escosura, and imagine me to break with you before the eyes of the world, though still you are the one and only man I can ever love. What do you think of the arrangement? Can you regard it as acceptable?"

Raimundo coloured crimson at this strange and humiliating proposition.

For a minute or two he made no reply, but at last he said, between anger and contempt:

"It strikes me as simply infamous and indecent."

The furrow, the fateful furrow, which appeared on Clementina's brow whenever pa.s.sion stirred her stormy soul, was ominously deep. She abruptly rose, and after looking at him hard, with an expression of scornful rage, she said in icy tones:

"You are right. Such an arrangement could not meet your views! We had better part, once for all." And she turned to go.

Raimundo was confounded.

"Clementina!" he cried as she reached the door.

"What is it?" said she, as coldly as before, and looking round.

"Listen, one moment, for G.o.d's sake! I spoke under an impulse of jealousy, not meaning to wound you. How could I ever mean to hurt you when I love you, adore you as a creature of another sphere?" and he poured out words of tenderness and worship.

Clementina listened without moving from her att.i.tude of haughty indifference, and would not melt till she saw him utterly humbled, on his knees before her, beseeching for the scheme he had stigmatised as infamous and indecent as a favour to himself.

At this time Clementina received a blow which almost made her ill. Her father brought the audacious woman to whom he had given a card for his ball to live in the palace, and this extraordinary proceeding became the talk of all Madrid. Every one believed that Salabert was out of his mind. And then a rumour got afloat that he was about to marry Amparo, and amazement and indignation filled the soul of Society.

But an unforeseen accident interfered with this alliance. At a meeting of the shareholders of the Riosa mines it was the Duke's part, as chairman, to give an account of his management, and propose certain measures for the advantage of the company. He usually fulfilled such functions with great brevity and lucidity; he was, above all else, a man of business, and had no fancy for rambling speeches or more words than were absolutely necessary. But now, to the surprise of his audience, among whom there were many bankers and official personages, he began a rambling address quite foreign to the matter.

He wandered from his subject and began giving explanations of his conduct as a public character, sketched a complete biography of himself, dwelling on a thousand insignificant details; sang his own praises in the most barefaced way, putting himself forward as the model of a logical politician, and of disinterested self-sacrifice; spoke of his services to the nation by his loans to the Government in the hour of need, and to the cause of humanity by his co-operation in the founding of hospitals, schools, and asylums; finally having the audacity to a.s.sert that the Home for Old Women was his work.

The shareholders looked at one another in bewilderment, muttering not very complimentary comments on the orator's condition of mind. When he had finished the catalogue of his own merits and proclaimed himself, _urbi et orbi_, the greatest man in Spain, he began an invective against his enemies, describing himself as the victim of persistent and deliberate persecution, of a thousand intrigues plotted to discredit him, and in which various political and financial magnates were implicated. In confirmation of this statement he read, in loud, fierce tones, certain articles from a paper published in the district where the Riosa mines were situated, and which, according to him, const.i.tuted a gross and shameful attack. What they actually said amounted to this: That Salabert was not a man of such mark as to be worthy to have a statue.

His hearers, more and more wearied and indignant, now said, though still in under-tone: "The man is crazy! The man is mad!"

As he read on, his face grew purple; it was usually pale, it now looked as if he were being strangled. Suddenly, before he had finished, he fell back senseless in his chair.

CHAPTER XVII.

A DARKENED MIND.

After this attack Requena's mental faculties were perceptibly weakened, as every one could discern who saw him. He suffered from strange illusions; his speech was slow and even less intelligible than of old.

He was full of fancies and whims. It was said that he had given his mistress vast sums of money; that he flew into a rage over the merest trifles, and shrieked and raved like a mad creature, going so far as to inflict bodily injuries on his servants and attendants; that he ate voraciously, and would say the most horrible things to his daughter. His sullen and vindictive temper had become violent and malignant.

In business matters, however, his faculties showed no signs of deserting him, nor had the mainspring of his nature, avarice, run down. His affairs, to be sure, for the most part went on by themselves, and he still had Llera, whose talents as a speculator had gained in astuteness.

Where the derangement, or rather the weakness of his mind, was most conspicuous, was in his domestic affairs. His mistress reigned supreme, and as in Madrid there is no lack of social parasites, there were plenty of hangers-on to sing her praises. She gave tea and card parties, and though the society she collected left much to be desired in point of quality, in appearance it made as good a show as that of many another wealthy house. There were Grandees of Castile who honoured her with their presence, among them Manolo de Davalos, as mad and as much in love as ever.

The lawsuit between the Duke and his daughter ran its lengthy course, each party more obstinate and more virulent every day. In fact, to Clementina, it had resolved itself into a personal struggle with Amparo.

The thing which she and Osorio most dreaded was that her father should commit himself to the marriage which was openly prognosticated. If he did, this hussy, an ex-flower-girl, would flaunt the ducal coronet, and treat with them on equal terms. Though society at first would have nothing to say to her, everything is forgotten in time, and Amparo would presently be regarded as a d.u.c.h.ess indeed. Happily for them, though Salabert was very submissive to her vagaries, they heard that the Duke had positively refused to marry her, and that when she endeavoured to coerce him, there were violent scenes between them. Whether all that the servants reported were true or no, there was no doubt that she was urgent and he obstinate. But though her attacks continued to be fruitless, Clementina and Osorio lived "between the devil and the deep sea." The Duke was p.r.o.nounced to be suffering from creeping paralysis.

Under these circ.u.mstances, after consulting several eminent lawyers, they determined to pet.i.tion the Court for a decree p.r.o.nouncing him incompetent or incapable of managing his own affairs. He had, lately, it was said, had a fresh attack, which had left him quite imbecile. This report seemed to be confirmed by his never leaving the house, and by his most intimate friends being refused admittance to see him. It was under these circ.u.mstances that, either from some sudden impulse of her impetuous nature, or because some of her acquaintances had suggested it to her, Clementina determined to deal a decisive blow, which would at once put an end to the litigation and to all the difficulties bound up with it.

"My father is shut up," said she, "I will go and turn that woman out of the house."

Her husband tried to dissuade her, but in vain.

One morning, therefore, she drove to her father's palace. The porter, on opening the gate to the Senora Clementina, was at once amazed and pleased; for though she was neither so smooth-tongued nor so liberal as the ex-florist, a sense of justice led the Duke's household to respect his daughter and contemn his mistress. The haughty lady, without looking at the man, merely said:

"Well, Rafael?" and went quickly up the steps.

"How is papa?" she asked of the servant who met her in the hall.

He was too much astonished to be able to reply.

"Well, fellow!" she repeated impatiently, "Where is papa? In the office, or in his study?"

"I beg your pardon, Senora; the Duke is well. I think he is in his study."

At this juncture, a waiting-maid, who had caught sight of her from the end of a pa.s.sage, and heard her inquiries, flew off to warn the Senora, while Clementina hastened up the stairs to the first-floor. But before she could reach her father's room, the lady in possession stood in her path, looking straight into her face, with flashing eyes.

"Where are you going?" she asked, in a voice husky with excitement.

"Who are you?" asked Clementina, lifting her head with supreme disdain, and looking down on her.

"I am the mistress of this house," was the reply, but the speaker turned pale.