orina, pointing toward the young man. "The
gentleman is a god-son of a relative of Father Damaso, and is private
secretary to all the ministers."

The young man bowed gracefully. Captain Tiago almost kissed his hand.

Dona Victorina was a woman of about forty-five summers, which,
according to her arithmetical calculations, was equivalent to
thirty-two springs. She had been pretty in her youth, but, raging over
her own beauty, she had looked with disdain on many Filipino adorers,
for her aspirations were for the other race. She had not cared to
entrust her little white hand to anybody, but this not on account
of lack of confidence on her part, for she had entrusted rings and
jewels of inestimable value to various foreign adventurers.

Six months before the time of the happenings of which we are writing,
she saw her beautiful dream realized, that dream of her whole life,
on account of which she had disdained all manner of flattery and even
the promises of love, which had been cooed into her ears, or sung
in serenades by Captain Tiago. Late, it is true, she had realized
her dream; but she knew well the proverb--"Better late than never,"
and consoled herself by repeating it again and again. "There is no
complete happiness on this earth," was her other favorite proverb, but
neither of these ever passed her lips in the presence of other people.

Dona Victorina, after passing her first, second, third and fourth youth
in fishing in the sea of men for the object of her dreams, had at last
to content herself with what fortune cared to give her. The poor little
woman, if she, instead of having passed thirty-two springs, had not
passed more than thirty-one--the difference according to her arithmetic
was very great--would have thrown back the prize which Destiny offered
her, and preferred to wait for another more in conformity with her
tastes. But, as the man proposed and necessity disposed it so, for she
needed a husband very badly, she was compelled to content herself with
a poor man, who had been driven by necessity to leave the Province
of Estremadura in Spain. He, after wandering about the world for six
or seven months, a modern Ulysses, found at last in the island of
Luzon, hospitality, money, and a faded Calypso, his better half--but
alas! a bitter half. He was known as the unhappy Tiburcio Espadana,
and, although he was thirty-five years old and seemed even older,
he was, however, younger than Dona Victorina, who was only