e the room this very moment, you
shameless creature!"

Don Alfonso, smiling with unchanged calmness, endeavored to pacify her,
saying:--

"But what is the harm in her remark, senora? Julia has only told the
truth. It is what I say to myself every morning when I brush my hair....
The worst of it is, that I am getting to be a boyish old man."

_La brigadiera_ would not listen to him, but pointed her daughter to the
door, with extended arm; Julia, bursting into tears, but still with
haughty and lofty face, left the room.

Don Alfonso went on trying to calm his aunt, who not having relieved
her mind, as she usually did, in a more brutal fashion, in order to find
compensation, heaped reproaches on her daughter. After she was somewhat
relieved she got up and went to enjoy her _siesta_ for a little while.

Her guest likewise arose, with his cigar in his mouth, and with slow,
lazy steps went to the sewing-room, hoping to find his cousin there. He
was not disappointed; she was there, reading a book, with her head
resting on one hand, and the other hanging over the back of the chair.

Don Alfonso halted at the threshold, and gazed at her for a while with
an indefinable smile playing over his lips.

Julia sat motionless, rigid; the frown on her brow grew a trifle deeper.
Don Alfonso slowly approached her, and bending his head humbly, touched
his lips to the girl's hand, at the same time saying:--

"Pardon!"

Julia gave a jump, knocking over the chair, and vanished like a vapor.

VII.

The life of Rivera and his wife had gradually come into regular
channels; the house was now entirely furnished. Miguel arose early and
went to his library to work. Maximina stayed some time longer in her
room, making up for the trials which she had been obliged to undergo
both at the convent and at her aunt's house. Her constitution required
much sleep, and she had never been able to satisfy this necessity. Once
she had asked her aunt as a special favor:--

"Aunt, when will you let me sleep as long as I should like?"

"Some day, some day, I will let you."

But the day never came. She had been obliged to be up at half-past five
in the winter, and at five in summer, and there was no help for it. Now
that there was no one to torment her, since Miguel dressed as quietly as
possible so as not to wake her, she was able to indulge in her
slothfulness. When at last she got up she would go straight to the
library, and always greet her