there! that'll do!"

The thread unrolled between her fingers, gently binding the flowers together; the nosegay went on a.s.suming a pyramidal form very well proportioned. Ricardo, looking into the basket, saw some extremely bright-colored geraniums, and cried out,--

"Oh, how lovely those geraniums are!... Such a bright color ought to become you, Mart.i.ta; put one in your hair."

The girl, without more ado, took the one that he offered her, and stuck it in her dark locks above her ear. This combination of red and black, which is vulgar, as all girls know, appeared more harmonious than ordinarily, through the exceptional intensity not only of the black, but of the red. The geranium, on being translated to that position, seemed to have fulfilled its destiny on earth, or to have realized its essence, as my friend h.o.m.obono Pereda, shining with more beauty and satisfaction than ever, would say. Ricardo contemplated Marta's head with genuine admiration, while an innocent smile of triumph hovered over her lips and in her eyes.

Around the roses she placed, instead of the green setting of sweet marjoram and althea, another of white and blue violets, and next a row of geraniums of all colors, combining them exquisitely. The bouquet was finished. To add a crowning grace she put in a few handfuls of thyme, arranging them in such a way that they might serve as a support. The flowers, all artistically combined, appeared loose, each one showing its own individuality, or, as my friend h.o.m.obono would add, perfectly united in the whole.

Marta lifted the nosegay up, saying, with childish delight,--

"Isn't that fine!... isn't that fine!

"Admirable!... admirable!" cried Ricardo, and in the height of his enthusiasm he took the nosegay, waved it several times, and then laying it down in the basket, seized the girl's hand and lifted it to his lips.

Marta grew as scarlet as the geranium that she wore in her hair, and s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand away. Ricardo looked at her with a mischievous smile, and said:--

"What's does this mean, senorita, what does this mean? You are ashamed to have any one kiss your hand, when it isn't four months since we all kissed you on the cheek? That won't do ... that won't do at all...."

And forcibly seizing her two hands he began to shower kisses on them without stopping, until he thought he felt something strange on his head, and lifted it. Marta was in tears. The young man's surprise was so great that he dropped her hands without saying a word. The girl hid her face in them, and began to sob with keen pain.

"Mart.i.ta, what is it? What is the matter with you?" he asked, thoroughly terrified, stooping down to look into her face.

"Nothing! nothing!... Leave me...."

"But what are you crying about?... Have I hurt you? Have I offended you?"

"No, no!... Leave me, Ricardo ... leave me, for Heaven's sake!"

And jumping from the bench, she started to run toward the house, wiping her eyes. Ricardo grew more and more surprised, as he saw her disappearing, and he stayed some time at the bench, trying in vain to explain the girl's behavior. Then he got up, and began to promenade in the garden. In a short time he had entirely forgotten Marta's tears; more painful memories came to disturb his mind and absorb his attention. An hour, at least, he spent in walking up and down the park, thinking about them, until at last, as he pa.s.sed in front of the bench where he had been sitting with the girl, he noticed that her bouquet still remained in the basket, as she had left it, and thinking that it was not good for it to be there, he started with it to the house. He asked the first servant whom he met where the senorita was to be found.

"I think she is in the senora's room."

He turned his steps thither. At Dona Gertrudis's room he met Marta, who was doubtless bound on some errand for her mother. The girl, who still wore the red geranium in her hair, as soon as she saw him, gave him a sweet smile, and showed signs of being somewhat confused.

"Are you still vexed, Mart.i.ta?" asked Ricardo, in a whisper.

"I wasn't vexed at all, Ricardo."

"But those tears?"

"I myself don't know what made me.... I have not been quite well for a few days, ... and I cry without any reason."

"Then I am relieved in my heart, preciosa. You can't imagine how I felt at having caused you any pain!"

"Bah!"

"And how violently you wept! I believed that something really serious had occurred.... Has anything happened to grieve you to-day?"

"No, no; nothing at all.... I shall be right back. Good by."

The Marquis of Penalta went into Dona Gertrudis's room, where at that time Don Mariano and Don Maximo were conversing together, neither of them showing in their faces any of the painful anguish, the pallor, and the fear of those who are witnessing the last agony of the dying; and this irritated Dona Gertrudis to such a degree that she would almost have taken delight in dying at that moment, for the sake of giving them a scare. She was reclining, as usual, in her easy-chair, her feet and legs wrapt up in a magnificent mountain goat-skin, casting looks of bitter desolation, now at the ceiling, and now at a cup of milk which she held in her hand. From time to time she carried it to her lips, and swallowed a portion of its contents, thereupon lifting her eyes, and exclaiming inwardly, "My G.o.d, may this cup pa.s.s from me!" Again and again she looked at her persecutors with ineffable serenity, saying, in a touching manner, that if G.o.d forgave their cruelty, she, for her part, did not find it hard to grant them a full and generous pardon, though she greatly doubted whether the Supreme Creator would grant it.

Ricardo sat down near the persecutors, without any ceremony, for that very morning he had had the opportunity of spending a good hour over Dona Gertrudis's nerves. She, considering that whoever has to do with sinners is p.r.o.ne to fall into sin, included him in advance in the universal and liberal amnesty which she had declared in favor of those who offended her.

"I would never permit either traitorous periodicals, like _El Tradicion_, or magistrates who would not obey the government punctually and unconditionally, Don Maximo."

"I agree with you up to a certain point; yet we find ourselves in a time of conflict, and it is necessary to proceed by exceptional measures. But you will not deny that, in a normal state of things, liberty--"

"Liberty and not license!... Liberty to work ... that's the only kind that we need. Roads, bridges, factories, land improvements, railways, and ports, that is all that our unfortunate nation asks for.... The liberty that you progressists are ambitious to get is liberty to starve to death.... When I consider that, if it had not been for _la gloriosa_, our railway would have been at point of completion, such desperation seizes me that--"

"This is only a pa.s.sing conclusion, Don Maximo.... You will see how very soon the rainbow of peace will shine!"

"Yes, yes ... it is certainly raining now.... Have you read the leading article in _La Tradicion_? [_La Tradicion_ was a Carlist journal, published in Nieva every Thursday.] Then, when you read it, you will see what rainbows the partisans of the Church and the throne are getting ready for us...."

"Is it very strong?"

"It's a trifling thing!... It says that all good Catholics ought to take arms to exterminate the horde of the impious and ruffianly who govern us to-day...."

At this moment Marta entered the room. As she pa.s.sed in front of Ricardo, he took her by the hand, and obliged her to sit on his knees, giving her a speechless look of tenderness with his eyes, without losing any of the conversation. The girl sat down without resistance, and likewise listened in silence.

"But does it really say that?" asked Don Maximo.

"It certainly does.... Read it for yourself, and you will be edified....

In my opinion the Carlists are meditating and even plotting some _coup de main_. The general commander is taking too little care of this region, and is carrying off all the forces to drive the guerillas from the highlands.... The factory always requires a strong garrison for what might happen.... It is a prize coveted by them."

"I don't believe that they would ever dare to make any attempt in that direction. And except that the senor marques says...."

Ricardo did not catch Don Maximo's last words, for, with an affectionate smile, he was saluting Maria, who at that moment came in. After she had sat down near Dona Gertrudis, and exchanged a look or two with him, he remembered the remark that had been directed to him.

"What did you say Don Maximo?"

"That I don't believe the Carlists have any intentions against the factory.... It would be a ridiculous undertaking."

"Oh, no indeed! Not so ridiculous as you imagine, Don Maximo.... This very day, with the small garrison which we have there, it would not be impossible or very difficult to take it by surprise.... How many times I have thought, when on guard at night, that thirty decided men might get the better of me! If they succeeded in procuring a foothold inside, the thirty would be settled, you may believe...."

"Do you hear what he says, you stubborn man? do you hear him? Now you shall see how we must look out for our powder magazine, now that thunderbolts and meteors are falling. But listen to one thing, Ricardo, why don't you utilize for the defence of the factory the last advances made in electric lighting?"

"How?"

"I should suggest that if a number of electric lamps were put in different parts of it, which the officer on guard could set going by simply pressing a b.u.t.ton, all danger of a surprise could easily be avoided; and if at the same time a goodly number of heavy bells were set up, likewise worked by electricity, which would give an instant alarm in the city and wake the workmen, who for the most part live near.... Mart.i.ta! what's the matter?" he exclaimed, suddenly breaking off the thread of his discourse.

All hastened to her a.s.sistance. The girl, who was still seated on Ricardo's knees, had grown pale without any one noticing it. When Don Mariano casually glanced at her, she was white as a sheet of paper.

"What is it, my daughter?"

"What is the matter, Mart.i.ta?"

"I don't feel quite well. Give me a gla.s.s of water." Maria ran to get it for her. Don Maximo felt of her pulse and said,--