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 [Pg 188] 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.
“Had you but known how to play your cards,” he would often say to her, “you might have avoided the quarrel with your infernal old idiot of a father. He is soft enough, in all conscience, when one knows how to handle him. But, no; you must needs go into heroics and get yourself kicked out of the house for your pains. Upon my word, Dolores, you are worse than a fool. Without you I would never have come down in the world like this.”
The poor woman, terrified by the violence of her husband, who was fast losing his former refinement and distinction, and was becoming downright brutal, could only cry and sob, imploring her dear “Eric” to take pity on her. But her tears only seemed to exasperate him more, and as lately his gambling saloon, thanks to his partners, [Pg 189] who were nothing but vulgar sharpers, had got into bad repute with the jeunesse doree, who cautiously avoided going there, he one fine morning gave the slip to his army of creditors, and, abandoning Dolores without a cent of money, started alone for Paris.
The unfortunate woman, when she discovered that she had been deserted, nearly went out of her mind with grief and despair. But nothing could destroy her love for Frederick, and she resolved to discover his hiding-place and to entreat him to let her live with him, if only as his servant.
Women are singularly illogical. The whole world may be against a man, but the woman who loves him will stand boldly forward as his champion. No matter how vile a man may be, if a woman loves him she exalts him to the rank of a demi-god and refuses to see the clay feet of her idol. When he is forsaken by all, she still clings to him. When all others frown, she still smiles on him, and when he dies, she adores and reverences his memory as that of a martyr of circumstances. God help the man who in time of trouble has not a true and loving woman to stand by his side and help him through life's bitter struggle!
However, Dolores, being penniless, had to leave her little house and to seek refuge at the lodgings of her old nurse, who lived in a narrow, dark street in the slums of Madrid. Old Carmen loved her, and, although the good woman was poor herself (her husband having, before he departed from this life, managed to drink up every penny), she took the unfortunate Dolores in and tended her through a violent fit of illness, brought on by sorrow and privation.
Dolores' home was now in a dark lane which glowed like a furnace during the hot months of the Spanish summer. She tried to earn some money by doing a little plain needlework, but often as she sat by the open casement of the small window which looked out into a dirty, ill-smelling alley, where ragged children played all day long in the dried-up [Pg 190] gutter, she would let her head fall on the greasy window-sill and weep scalding tears of pain and regret. Far happier were the victims whom Frederick had dispatched from this world than this broken-hearted creature whose life he had shattered and ruined.
In the middle of 1883 Frederick arrived in Paris, and continued to live there in the same reckless and dissipated fashion. He lost all the little money he had brought with him from Spain, and sank lower and lower, cheating at cards, swindling hotel and lodging-house keepers, and gradually rolling to the very bottom of the social scale. More than once he went to bed without a dinner, and in one word he now belonged to the very lowest class of adventurers. Driven by the pangs of hunger and misery, he even went so far as to blackmail several ladies of high rank and position, but somehow or other always managed to escape the vigilant eye of the French police.
One night, having made a few napoleons at baccarat, he bought seats at the Folies-Bergeres, and after a scanty dinner at a cheap restaurant he proceeded thither accompanied by the woman who was then living with him, a gaudily dressed, red-haired, and brazen-faced creature, who was well known on the outer boulevards.
During a pause in the performance the well-assorted coup............