vants hurried
in confusion, not knowing how to serve so many a black glove or white
hand that seized the gold-bordered plates and the little pearl knives
crossed on the dishes. It was a smiling, well-bred riot, but they pushed
and trod on the ladies' trains and used their elbows, as if, now the
ceremony was over, they were all gnawed with hunger.

Plate in hand, stifled and breathless after the assault, they scattered
through the studios, eating even on the very altar. There were not
servants enough for so great a gathering; the young men, seizing bottles
of champagne, ran in all directions, filling the ladies' glasses. Amid
great merriment the tables were pillaged. The servants covered them
hastily and with no less speed the pyramids of sandwiches, fruits, and
sweets came down and the bottles disappeared. The corks popped two and
three at a time, in ceaseless crossfire.

Renovales ran about like a servant, loaded with plates and glasses,
going back and forth from the crowded tables to the corners where some
of his friends were seated. The Alberca woman assumed the airs of a
mistress; she made him go and come with constant requests.

On one of these trips he ran into his beloved pupil, Soldevilla. He had
not seen him for a long time. He looked rather gloomy, but he found some
consolation in looking at his waistcoat, a novelty that had made a "hit"
among the younger set; of black velvet with embroidered flowers and gold
buttons.

The master felt that he ought to console him,--poor boy! For the first
time he gave him to understand that he was "in the secret."

"I wanted something else for my daughter, but it was impossible. Work,
Soldevilla! Courage! We must not have any mistress except painting."

And content to have delivered this kindly consolation, he returned to
the countess.

At noon, the reception ended. Lopez de Sosa and his wife reappeared in
traveling costume; he in a fox-skin overcoat, in spite of the heat, a
leather cap and high leggings; she in a long mackintosh that reached to
her feet and a turban of thick veils that hid her face, like a fugitive
from a harem.

At the door, the groom's latest acquisition was waiting for them--an
eighty horse-power car that he had bought for his wedding trip. They
intended to spend the night some hundred miles away in a corner of old
Castile, at an estate inherited from his father which he had never
visited.

A modern wedding, as Cotoner said, a honeymoon at full