to him who was dearer to her than
the light of those eyes with which she furtively glanced at him from
time to time, began to revolve in her mind what had passed between her
and Rodolfo. The hopes her mother had given her of being his wife began
to droop, and the fear came strong upon her that such bliss was not for
one so luckless as herself. She reflected how near she stood to the
crisis which was to determine whether she was to be blessed or unhappy
for ever, and racked by the intensity of her emotions, she suddenly
changed colour, her head dropped, and she fell forward in a swoon into
the arms of the dismayed Estafania.

The whole party sprang up in alarm and hastened to her assistance, but
no one showed more earnest sympathy than Rodolfo, who fell twice in his
haste to reach her. They unlaced her, and sprinkled her face with cold
water; but far from coming to her senses, the fulness of her congested
bosom, her total insensibility, and the absence of all pulse gave such
mortal indications, that the servants began imprudently to cry out that
she was dead. This shocking news reached the ears of her parents, whom
Dona Estafania had concealed in another room that they might make their
appearance at the right moment. They now rushed into the supper room,
and the parish priest, who was also with them, went up to the prostrate
lady to see if she could by any signs make known that she repented of
her sins in order that he might give her absolution; but instead of one
fainting person he found two, for Rodolfo lay with his face on
Leocadia's bosom. His mother had left her to him as being her destined
protector; but when she saw that he too was insensible, she was near
making a third, and would have done so had he not come to himself. He
was greatly confused at finding that he had betrayed such emotion; but
his mother, who guessed his thoughts, said to him, "Do not be ashamed,
my son, at having been so overcome by your feelings; you would have been
so still more had you known what I will no longer conceal from you,
though I had intended to reserve it for a more joyful occasion. Know
then, son of my heart, that this fainting lady is your real bride: I say
real, because she is the one whom your father and I have chosen for you,
and the portrait was a pretence."

When Rodolfo heard this, carried away by the vehemence of his passion,
and on the strength of his title as a bridegroom disdaining all
conventional proprieties, he clas