fashions of the idle and presenting the appearance of State
functionaries, clerks, who wielded the brush.

His greeting over, Soldevilla fairly overwhelmed the master with his
effusive praise. He had been admiring the portrait of the Countess of
Alberca.

"A perfect marvel, master. The best thing you have painted, and it's
only half done, too."

This praise aroused Renovales. He got up, shoved aside the screen and
pulled out an easel that held a large canvas, until it was opposite the
light that came in through the wide window.

On a gray background stood a woman dressed in white, with that majesty
of beauty that is accustomed to admiration. The aigrette of feathers and
diamonds seemed to tremble on her tawny yellow curls, the curve of her
breasts was outlined through the lace of her low-necked gown, her gloves
reached above her elbows, in one of her hands she held a costly fan, in
the other, a dark cloak, lined with flame-colored satin, that slipped
from her bare shoulders, on the point of falling. The lower part of the
figure was merely outlined in charcoal on the white canvas. The head,
almost finished, seemed to look at the three men with its proud eyes,
cold, but with a false coldness that bespoke a hidden passion within, a
dead volcano that might come to life at any moment.

She was a tall, stately woman, with a charming, well-proportioned
figure, who seemed to keep the freshness of youth, thanks to the
healthy, comfortable life she led. The corners of her eyes were narrowed
with a tired fold.

Cotoner looked at her from his seat with chaste calmness, commenting
tranquilly on her beauty, feeling above temptation.

"It's she, you've caught her, Mariano. She has been a great woman."

Renovales appeared offended at this comment.

"She is," he said with a sort of hostility. "She is still."

Cotoner could not argue with his idol and he hastened to correct
himself.

"She is a charming woman, very attractive, yes sir, and very stylish.
They say she is talented and cannot bear to let men who worship her
suffer. She has certainly enjoyed life."

Renovales began to bristle again, as if these words cut him.

"Nonsense! lies, calumnies!" he said angrily. "Inventions of some young
fellows who spread these disgraceful reports because they were
rejected."

Cotoner began to explain away what he had said. He did not know
anything, he had heard it. The ladies at whose houses he dined spoke ill
of the Alberca woman