They went back to Madrid with little Milita, as they called her for
short, abbreviating the diminutive of Emilia. Renovales brought with him
as his whole capital some few thousand lire, that represented
Josephina's savings and the product of his sale of part of the furniture
that decorated the poorly furnished halls of the Foscarini palace.
At first it was hard. Dona Emilia died a few months after they reached
Madrid. Her funeral did not come up to the dreams the illustrious widow
had always fashioned. Hardly a score of her countless relatives were
present. Poor old lady, if she had known how her hopes were destined to
be disappointed! Renovales was almost glad of the event. With it, the
only tie that bound them to society was broken. He and Josephina lived
in a fifth story flat on the Calle de Alcala, near the Plaza de Toros,
with a large terrace that the artist converted into a studio. Their life
was modest, secluded, humble, without friends or functions. She spent
the day taking care of her daughter and the house, without help except a
dull, poorly-paid maid. Oftentimes when she seemed most active, she fell
into a sudden languor, complaining of strange, new ailments.
Mariano hardly ever worked at home; he painted out of doors. He despised
the conventional light of the studio, the closeness of its atmosphere.
He wandered through the suburbs of Madrid and the neighboring provinces
in search of rough, simple types, whose faces seemed to bear the stamp
of the ancient Spanish soul.
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