Through the senorita's eyes flashed a gleam of anger, which instantly died away; but she said, in a tone of considerable irritation:--

"Do we believe in this? Obey me, and don't be obstinate."

The woman, overawed, and persuaded that she was aiding in a work of piety, obeyed, laying the scourge gently enough on the senorita's naked shoulders.

The first blows struck by the maid were so soft and gentle that they left no sign on that precious skin. But Maria was excited; she desired them to be heavier:--

"No, not like that; but with force--but wait a moment; let me take off these jewels, which are out of place at such a moment."

And hastily she tore off all the rings from her fingers, pulled out her earrings, and laid the handful of gold and precious stones at the feet of Jesus. In that same way Saint Isabel, when she prayed in church, laid her ducal crown at the foot of the altar.

She resumed her humble posture, and Genoveva, seeing that there was no escape, began relentlessly to bruise her pious mistress's flesh. The lamp shed a soft, diffused light, bathing the little boudoir in subdued brilliancy; only as it touched the jewels lying at the Redeemer's feet, it broke into beautiful fleeting sparkles. The silence at this moment was absolute; not even the mournful voice of the wind in the cas.e.m.e.nts was to be heard. The room breathed an atmosphere of mystery and seclusion, which enraptured Maria and filled her with an intoxicating pleasure. Her lovely body, bared, shuddered every time that the straps of the scourge curled around it with a pang not without voluptuous pleasure. She pressed her brow to the Redeemer's feet, breathing quickly and with a certain oppression, and she felt the blood beating in her temples with strange violence, while the light golden hair at the back of the neck rose slightly under the impulse of the emotion which filled her. From time to time her pale, trembling lips said softly,--

"Go on, go on."

The lashes had already raised many rose-colored weals in her shining skin, and she did not ask for a truce. But at last the barbarous instrument brought a drop of blood. Genoveva could not restrain herself; she threw the scourge far from her, and hastened to embrace her senorita, covering her with caresses and begging her by the salvation of her soul not to make her do such an atrocious thing again. Maria consoled her, a.s.suring her that the flagellation had hurt her very little; and now that her ardor was somewhat cooled, and her ascetic impulses calmed, she said good night and went to her bedroom to lie down.

CHAPTER VI.

IN SEARCH OF MENINO.

"I know it's you, Ricardo; let me go!"

Ricardo did not reply.

"Come, let me go; you see I must hurry and carry the broth to mamma."

Ricardo still blinded her eyes from behind without saying a word.

"For pity's sake let me go, Ricardo! It isn't fair, after I have told who you were."

"In punishment for your not taking the joke gracefully, I won't let you go," said Ricardo, still clasping her eyes.

"All right, then; I admit that it's perfectly fair."

"Ah, that's another thing! if you submit, I will let you go. But you must pay a forfeit."

Marta, as soon as she found herself free, ran behind him with uplifted broom, so that he could not get hold of her; thereupon she went back and again began her task of brushing up the dining-room. She had not dressed for the day. She wore a loose red gown somewhat the worse for wear, and her hair was put up in a white redicilla. But there was one very strange thing about this girl; in an old morning dress, sometimes even ripped, and with her hair in disorder, she was prettier than when she put on her fine clothes. It may have been because her peculiar style of beauty was not best brought out by rich and splendid dresses as her sister's was, or because she was not used to wearing them (for it was rare for her to put on those which were bought for her), so that she appeared awkward and constrained when she went out; but at all events, on the street and at the theatre, Marta certainly attracted little attention, and remained entirely overshadowed by her sister's proud and splendid beauty. On the other hand, at home her graces were greatly increased; her motions were easy and unembarra.s.sed; her eyes gained brilliancy and animation, and her whole body acquired a freedom which it lost as soon as she set foot in the street.

She swept without haste, firmly and easily, like one who always expects to finish in time, and she kept humming a march[26] very softly. She had no voice for singing or any great love for music, and all the exertions of her teachers and her liking for study struggled with this lack of musical ability. The masterpieces of music, and even the _fantasias_, _reveries_, and nocturnes, which Maria played on the piano left her cold and incapable of understanding their worth. On the other hand, she confessed with shame that certain operatic airs and many popular songs delighted her. Another thing she did not confess, though it was no less true: the bands which sometimes accompany funerals, and are, as a general rule, of the very worst sort, composed almost entirely of bra.s.s instruments, moved her deeply, even to tears. She almost never sang, but she was apt to hum softly when she was doing any work as now. From time to time she stopped to take breath, leaning for a moment on her broom, and after brushing back one or two curls which fell on her forehead, she went on with her task.

Ricardo appeared again in the door.

"Mart.i.ta, are you still vexed with me?"

"If I am," she replied, between a frown and smile, "you had better make your escape, senor marques, quick, before I dust you with the broomstick."

"But are you really vexed?"

"Certainly I am."

"Very well, then; I humbly ask your pardon," said Ricardo, getting down on his knees. "Give me all the blows you want, for I have no idea of moving."

"Come, get up, and don't be foolish! See how you are soiling your trowsers!"

"Though I should soil the very collar of my shirt, I wouldn't move until you pardoned me!"

"What a boor you are, Ricardo!"

"Many thanks!"

"Will you get up, child?"

"No; not till you pardon me."

"You must be serious, Ricardo!"

"We will speak of that by and by. Do you pardon me?"

"Yes; bother[27]! yes; get up!"

Ricardo arose, went up to Marta, and taking her by the arms and shaking her violently, exclaimed,--

"How very pretty you are, little one! I don't wonder that Manolito--Of course you understand me."

"This is a great way of trying to be serious!"

"I shall be in time. Don't you worry!"

"Very well; then let me have a chance to carry mamma's broth to her."

"Do you know, I have searched the whole house and not found a soul?"

"Mamma has not left her room yet, and papa and Maria are out."

"Maria is at church as usual, isn't she?"

"She only went to ma.s.s; she will be back soon."

"Of course," replied the young man, becoming suddenly serious and silent.

Marta finished her work under her future brother's grave and not very careful inspection.

"Will you wait for me? I'm coming right back."