est remembrance, though he had no
other connection with the family than his friendship with the master.

The wedding was celebrated at the house, where one of the studios was
converted into a chapel. Cotoner had a hand in everything that concerned
the ceremony, delighted to be able to show his influence with the people
of the Church.

Renovales took charge of the arrangements of the altar, eager to display
the touch of an artist even in the least details. On a background of
ancient tapestries he placed an old triptych, a medieval cross; all the
articles of worship which filled his studio as decorations, cleaned now
from dust and cobwebs, recovered for a few moments their religious
importance.

A variegated flood of flowers filled the master's house. Renovales
insisted on having them everywhere; he had sent to Valencia and Murcia
for them in reckless quantities; they hung on the door-frames, and along
the cornices; they lay in huge clusters on the tables and in the
corners. They even swung in pagan garlands from one column of the facade
to another, arousing the curiosity of the passers-by, who crowded
outside of the iron fence,--women in shawls, boys with great baskets on
their heads who stood in open-mouthed wonder before the strange sight,
waiting to see what was going on in that unusual house, following the
coming and going of the servants who carried in music stands and two
base viols, hidden in varnished cases.

Early in the morning Renovales was hurrying about with two ribbons
across his shirt front and a constellation of golden, flashing stars
covering one whole side of his coat. Cotoner, too, had put on the
insignia of his various Papal Orders. The master looked at himself in
all the mirrors with considerable satisfaction, admiring equally his
friend. They must look handsome; a celebration like this they would
never see again. He plied his companion with incessant questions, to
make sure that nothing had been overlooked in the preparations. The
master Pedraza, a great friend of Renovales, was to conduct the
orchestra. They had gathered all the best players in Madrid, for the
most part from the Opera. The choir was a good one, but the only notable
artists they had been able to secure were people who made the capital
their residence. The season was not the best; the theaters were closed.

Cotoner continued to explain the measures he had taken. Promptly at ten
the Nuncio, Monsignore Orlandi,--a great friend of