"No; I haven't."

"But I have."

"So have I. He was a young fellow from Andalusia, with a black moustache;
he was to have married the Marquis of Moreda's daughter, but he died of
jaundice."

"The very one," said Gabriel. "Well, then, my friend Telesforo, six months
before his death, was still a most promising young man, as they say
nowadays. He was good-looking, well-built, energetic, and had the glory of
being the first one in his class to be promoted. He had already gained
distinction in the practice of his profession through some fine pieces of
work. Several different companies were competing for his services, and
many marriageable women were also competing for him. But Telesforo, as you
said, was faithful to poor Joaquina Moreda.

"As you know, it turned out that she died suddenly at the baths of Santa
Agueda, at the end of the summer of 1859. I was in Pau when I received the
sad news of her death, which affected me very much on account of my close
friendship with Telesforo. With her I had spoken only once, in the house
of her aunt, the wife of General Lopez, and I certainly thought her bluish
pallor a symptom of bad health. But, however that may be, she had a
distinguished manner and a great deal of grace, and was, besides, the only
daughter of a title, and a title that carried some comfortable thousands
with it; so I felt sure my good mathematician would be inconsolable.
Consequently, as soon as I was back in Madrid, fifteen or twenty days
after his loss, I went to see them very early one morning. He lived in
elegant batchelor quarters in Lobo Street--I do not remember the number,
but it was near the Carrera de San Jeronimo.