“You--you have known him for a long time?” murmured Lucía, conquered, offering the sick girl her arm to lean upon.
“Yes, child. He goes to Madrid every year; sometimes to spend the whole winter there, but generally only a month or two in the spring. He has little liking for society; he was invited to several houses, for his father, the Carlist chief, was a distinguished man in his part of the country, and he is connected with the Puenteanchas and with the Mijares, who are also Urbietas, but he was so chary of his society that every one was dying to have him. Once, because he danced a rigadoon, at Puenteancha’s, with Isabelita Novelda, they teased her about it all the evening--they said she could now undertake to tame wild beasts; that she could take Plevna without firing a gun--Isabelita was as proud as a peacock, and it turned out that the Puenteancha had requested him to dance, as a favor to her, and that he had consented, saying that he would dance with the first woman he met--he met Isabelita and he asked her. Fancy how the silly girl looked when it was known! After being convinced that she had made a conquest! Her nose grew longer than it was, and it was long enough already--ha, ha!”
The sick girl’s laughter ended in a cough--a little cough that tickled her throat and took away her breath, compelling her to sit down on one of the rustic benches of the park. Lucía slapped her gently on the back without speaking, not wishing to say a word that might change the current of the conversation. Her eyes spoke for her.
“I can tell you it was a dreadful disappointment,” resumed Pilar, when she had recovered her breath. “The hundreds of thousands of francs which his father had laid by for him would have suited the Noveldita exactly--but they say that he does not like women!”
“He does not like women?” said Lucía, as if the pronoun _he_ could refer to only one person.
“They say, however, that as a son he has few equals--he pets his mother like a baby. She is said to be a woman of great refinement, belonging to the French aristocracy--extremely delicate in her health, and I even think that long ago, when she was young----”
The sick girl tapped her forehead significantly with her forefinger.