Ricardo looked at her in surprise, and drawing her gently toward him, laid her head on his knee. The girl thanked him with a smile.

The waters beat upon the point where they were, spattering them with spray, and ceaselessly pouring in and out of the deep caves of the rocks, which seemed hollow, like a house. The rivers tumbling over them awoke strange, confused murmurs within, seeming sometimes like the far-off echoes of a thunder-clap, again like the deep rumbling of an organ.

Marta, with her head resting on the young man's knee and her face turned to the sky, allowed her great, liquid eyes to roam around the azure vault, with ears attent to the deep murmurs sounding beneath her. The fresh sea breeze had not yet succeeded in cooling her burning cheeks.

"Hark!" she said, after a little; "don't you hear it?"

"What?"

"Don't you hear, amid the roar of the water, something like a lament?"

Ricardo listened a moment.

"I don't hear anything."

"No; now it has stopped; wait a while.... Now don't you hear it?... Yes, yes, there's no doubt about it ... there's some one weeping in the hollows of this rock...."

"Don't be worried, tonta; it's the surf that makes those strange noises.... Do you want me to go down and see if there's any one in there?"

"No! no!" she exclaimed, eagerly; "stay quiet.... If you should move, it would disturb me greatly...."

The great spot of silver kept extending further over the circuit of the ocean, but it began to grow pale. The sun was rapidly journeying toward the horizon, in majestic calm, without a cloud to accompany him, wrapt in a gold and red vapor, which gradually melted, till it was entirely lost in the clear blue of the sky. The point where they were, likewise stretched its shadow over the water, the dark green of which, little by little, grew into black. The roaring of the waves became m.u.f.fled, and the breeze blew softly, like the indolent breathing of one about to go to sleep. An august, soul-stirring silence began to come up from the bosom of the waters. In the caverns of the rock Marta no longer perceived the mournful cry which had frightened her; and the thunders and mumblings had been slowly changing into a soft and languid glu glu.

"Are you going to sleep?" asked Ricardo again.

"I have told you once that I don't care to go to sleep.... I am so happy to be awake!... He who sleeps doesn't suffer, but neither does he enjoy.... It is good to sleep only when one has sweet dreams, and I almost never have them.... Look, Ricardo; it seems to me now that I am asleep and dreaming.... You look so strange to me! I see the sky below, and the sea above; your head is bathed in a blue mist; ... when you move, it seems as though the vault covering us swung to and fro; when you speak, your voice seems to come out of the depths of the sea....

Don't shut your eyes, for pity's sake! how it makes me suffer! I imagine that you are dead, and have left me here alone. Don't you see how wide open mine are! Never did I want less to sleep than now.... Hark! put down your face a little nearer; should you suffer much, if the sea were to rise slowly, and finally cover us up?"

Ricardo trembled a little; he cast a look about him, and saw that the water was ready to cut off the isthmus uniting them to the sh.o.r.e.

"Come, we are almost surrounded by water already."

"Wait just a little ... I have something to tell you.... I am going to whisper it very low, so that no one shall hear it ... no one but you....

Ricardo, I should be glad if the sea would come up now, and bury us forever.... Thus we should be eternally in the depths of the water; you sitting, and I with my head on your lap, with eyes wide open....

Then,--yes, I would dream at my ease; and you would watch my sleep, would you not? The waves would pa.s.s over our heads, and would come to tell us what is going on in the world.... Those white and purple fishes, which sailors catch with hooks, would come noiselessly to visit us, and would let us smooth their silver scales with our hands. The seaweed would entwine at our feet, making soft cushions; and when the sun rose, we should see him through the gla.s.sy water, larger and more beautiful, filtering his thousand-colored beams through it, and dazzling us with his splendor!... Tell me, doesn't it tempt you?... doesn't it tempt you?"

"Be quiet, Mart.i.ta; you are delirious ... Come along, the tide is rising."

"Wait a moment ... We have been here an hour, and the wind hasn't cooled my cheeks ... they are hotter than ever.... No matter ... I am comfortable.... Do you want to do me a favor?... Listen! I must ask your forgiveness ..."

"What for?"

"For the scare I gave you the other day. Do you remember when we were making a nosegay together in the garden?... You wanted to kiss my hand, and I was so stupid that I took it in bad part, and began to cry.... How surprised and disgusted you must have been!... I confess that I am a goose,[48] and don't deserve to have any one love me.... However, you may believe me that I was not offended with you.... I wept from sentiment ... without knowing why.... What reason had I to weep? You did not want to do any harm ... all you wanted was to kiss my hands; isn't that so?"

"That was all, my beauty!"

"Then I take great pleasure in having you kiss them, Ricardo.... Take them!..."

The young girl lifted up her gentle hands, and waved them in the air, fair and white as two doves just flying from the nest. Ricardo kissed them gallantly.

"That doesn't suit me," continued the girl, laughing; "you always used to kiss my face whenever you met me or said good by.... Why have you ceased to do so?... Are you afraid of me?... I am not a woman ... I am still only a child.... Until I grow up you have the right to kiss me ... then it will be another thing.... Come, give me a kiss on the forehead...."

The young man bent over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

"If you would not be angry, I would ask for another here;" and she touched her moist, rosy lips.

The young marquis grew red in the face; he remained an instant motionless; then bending down his head, he gave the girl a prolonged kiss on her lips.

A strong gust of wind waked the ocean just as he was getting ready to sleep; he stirred an instant in his immense bed of sand, as though he were going to change his position, and uttered a low murmur of discontent. The waves in the distance began to roll in, big and blue; on the beach they clamored with strong voices. The lights which had shone on their crests were gone, and the magnificent ebullition of the submarine treasure had ceased. The silver spot was fast taking on the melancholy reflections of burnished steel.

When Ricardo raised his head, the first thing he did was to cast an anxious glance along the line of the point. The water already surrounded them. He sprang up hastily, and, without saying a word, seized Marta in his arms as easily as though she had been a fawn, and making a tremendous leap, he fell headlong on the nearest point, slightly cutting his hand. Marta was entirely unharmed, and she looked at the young man's wound; then taking out her delicate linen handkerchief she silently bound it around it, and started off with rapid steps. Ricardo followed her. They both walked in perfect silence. The distance between them grew greater and greater; for Marta no longer walked; she ran. The young marquis felt a vague discomfort, and a strange uneasiness which caused him to deliberate as he walked; he was angry with himself. When they entered the mouth of the tunnel leading to the pine grove, he entirely lost sight of his friend, and could not even hear the noise of her boots on the ground. When he reached the middle of the cave where it was perfectly dark, he thought he heard, very confusedly, the echo of a sob, and his heart was still more oppressed. After he got out into the light he felt better.

When they got to the house they found that a number of servants had been sent out in search of them, as everything had been long ready for the return. The afternoon was wearing on, and the ladies would not find it much to their liking should night catch them on the sea. They were welcomed back therefore with signs of satisfaction, and all hands hastened to settle themselves again in the faluas, which, on account of the swell, were as restless as horses harnessed and waiting for their master at the stable door.

Their sails were raised, and making long tacks to get advantage of the wind, they bore away to El Moral. Marta, when she entered the yawl, had lost the bright color from her cheeks.

The sun constantly hastened toward the horizon. The ladies looked with foreboding as the shadows crept over the sky and the sea, and they cast anxious looks at the sailors. The frequent tacks made by the yawls delayed them extraordinarily, and at last they had to furl the sails and follow the direct course by oars. There is nothing strange in this, and it is the most usual way when the wind is not astern; but it happened that Rosarito, the Senorita de Mori's friend, took it into her head that the change from sails to oars signified imminent danger of shipwreck, and this she represented in her imagination with all the horrors by which it is surrounded in magazine stories,--the pitchy darkness of the night, the waves rising like mountains to the sky, the cries of the sailors mingling with the roaring of the sea, etc., etc. And being unable to control herself, she began to clutch her friend with nervous hands and to utter exclamations of anguish and fear.

"Alas! O G.o.d![49] we are going to perish, we are going to perish!"

"There is nothing wrong; calm yourself, Rosario."

"Yes, yes! we are going to perish ... we are going to be drowned.... O G.o.d, what a terrible death!... Why should I have gone to the island?...

What will my papa say when he learns that his daughter is dead?... Papa!

my heart's papa!"

"But, child alive, there's absolutely nothing to be afraid of!"

"Don't tell me so, for G.o.d's sake; because can't I see that they have lowered the sails. Alas! what a death! what a frightful death!... To die without confession!... To die away from my papa!... And to be buried right here in these awful black depths!... And be eaten by the fishes!

and by crabs.... It's horrible!..."

The Senorita de Mori's efforts to calm her friend were useless. It added no little to her fright to hear the shouts of the sailors, who in order to encourage each other and overcome the resistance of the waves, at each stroke of the oars shouted in chorus, yo-heave-oh![50],--yo-heave-oh!

Every time that this exclamation rang through the air with its brutal rhythm, Rosario breathed a shriek of anguish; till the vivacious Senorita de Mori, fearing that she was getting ill, said to the sailors,--

"Gentlemen, will you have the goodness not to say yo-heave-oh! for it greatly frightens this young lady."

But Rosario, quite irritated and shedding a sea of tears, instantly exclaimed,--

"No, no; let them say yo-heave-oh! but let us perish quickly if we are going to!..."

Little by little, however, and seeing that the tremendous catastrophe did not take place, her nerves grew calmer, and before long she was laughing, giddy girl that she was, at her ridiculous fears.

In the Elorza falua there was little talking. Don Mariano and Don Maximo were too full of medoc to feel like indulging in an animated conversation. The Senorita de Delgado, seconded by her sisters, admired the sunset with lively transports of enthusiasm, and with much opening and shutting of eyes. The Marquis of Penalta had closed his, and seemed to be dozing with his cheek in his hand. One or two couples were whispering together.

What was Marta thinking about at that moment, her gaze fastened on the sea, serious, motionless, and pale as a statue? What black phantasms rose before her from the depths of the waters to trace in her fair brow the deep furrows with which it was corrugated? What deathly secrets whispered the breeze in her ear?

Ah! easier were it to unriddle the mystery in the murmurs of the ocean and the secrets of the breeze than the vague thoughts hidden behind a maiden's brow!