In the car were four other people: an elderly señora and ñaltaMartayMaría young man of twenty or twenty-five, a girl of eighteen or twenty, and a little girl of five or six years old,--all of whom seemed to be her children. The señora went to sleep, though she kept opening her eyes to watch the child, who was incessantly running from one side to the other; the two young people were chatting quietly and confidentially together. The sight of this mother surrounded by her children and often looking at them lovingly still more deeply affected Ricardo. The gentle murmur of the brother and sister's conversation, repeatedly broken by repressed laughter, roused in his heart a keen, melancholy envy. The young girl was beautiful, with a noble, fascinating face. Ricardo, without realizing it, watched her all night, but she seemed to give no heed to him. When the guard of the station shouted, "Cordoba! twenty minutes for refreshments!" all hastily got up and collected their things in preparation to leave the train. Then only the young lady gave him a long, sweet look, and as she went out, said with a sad, sympathetic smile, "Good night, and a happy journey to you."[13] There was no doubt that she had noticed his grief.
Ricardo felt deeply sorry to have them take their departure, as though some tide of affection bound him to that family, and he felt an inclination to say to the mamma, "Señora, I have just lost my mother; I am alone in the world, and I have no one to love me, and no one to love. Won't you take me home with you as your son?" The car door closed with a bang, the bell rang, the hoarse shriek of the engine was heard, and the train sped on its way with its metallic clatter, which ceaselessly cried in the silence of the night, Alone! alone! alone!
A few relatives and friends were waiting for him, and they went with him silently to his home, where they left him after a few meaningless words. During the days that followed he received many visits of condolence from people who extolled his mother's virtues and recommended great resignation. All called him Señor Marqués. Never did he suffer so much as at such times. The only person with whom he enjoyed talking was Don Mariano Elorza, who had been a good friend of his father's, and whose house he visited very familiarly whenever he came to Nieva during his vacations. Don Mariano, who was cordial and friendly to everybody, could not well help showing himself doubly affectionate to him on account of the sorrowful situation in which he was placed. His house during the period which followed the marquesa's death, was a place of refuge for our young friend, where his grief was consoled, and he found a little of that family life which he so greatly missed. On the other hand, it must be said that Ricardo had always felt toward Don Mariano's eldest daughter a strong admiration and affection, which easily changed into love when age and occasion offered, and frequency of intercourse stimulated it, and there was still greater reason for it since neither he nor she had ever been in love before. Long before they were formally engaged, the marriage of the young Marqués de Peñalta and the Señorita de Elorza used to be talked about in the city. It was a marriage desired and demanded by public opinion; for it must be remarked that the families of Peñalta and Elorza were the richest in town, and the public always consider it logical for wealth to seek wealth as rivers seek the sea. Accordingly, Ricardo and Maria were declared husband and wife not long after they were born, and the truth is, the gossips of the town would never have forgiven them if they had failed to carry out the edict passed by all the tertulias of Nieva. We know on good authority that the young people had no thought of any such intention, and that they had accepted the sovereign decree with the greatest meekness.