renuously, and with such fervent words, almost with tears in his eyes,
that at last, though not with very good grace, Miguel consented to call
upon his uncle and talk over the matter with him.

On the day set for the visit Enrique was waiting for him, walking up and
down the corridor in a state of agitation easy to understand. When the
door-bell rang he was the one that opened it.

"How pale you are, my friend!" exclaimed Miguel.

"My heart beats worse than if I were going to fight."

"Poor Enrique! Make up your mind that even if my meddling turns out ill,
as I predict it will, you will not hesitate a moment to hang yourself on
the beautiful tree that you have chosen!"

"See here, I can't wait for you in the house. My head is like a furnace;
I must have some fresh air.... I will wait for you at the Imperial."

Before going to his uncle's room Miguel went straight to Vincente's, who
was still master of ceremonies for the family.

Vincente received him with the affable gravity characteristic of him,
and was amiable enough to give him a circumstantial and entertaining
account of how the pipe that brought water to his wash-basin had, for a
number of days, been afflicted with a small break, which had made it
leak so that it had almost ruined a tapestry of the Catholic kings; but
fortunately it had been discovered in time, and after a long search they
had succeeded in finding the wretched leak.

Then he told him another story, no less interesting, about a curious
system of bells which he had invented for communicating with the
servants and the coachman. Finally, the oldest son of the Senores de
Rivera, manifesting a generosity which was as honorable to him as to his
cousin, brought from a closet a small ivory triptich, which he had
recently bought at El Rastro. It was an exquisite work, a real jewel, as
its owner declared, although somewhat the worse for wear. After both of
them had looked at it and admired it, Vincente, as he was returning it
to its place, and trying not to burst out laughing, said:--

"And do you know what Senor de Aguilar would be willing to give me for
this triptich?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Just imagine, Miguel!... a Trajan! Think of it! he wanted to take me in
with a Trajan."

And Vincente, unable longer to contain himself, laughed till the tears
ran.

"How absurd!" exclaimed Miguel, laughing in sympathy, but not having a
very clear idea of what a Trajan was, and still less its