id him with a loving smile.

The bed was very quickly made. Juana looked at it enthusiastically.

"Senorito, it is like an altar! Would the queen's be finer?"

"There is no queen any longer, woman. Do me the favor not to stand there
like a post. Take the alcohol stove and put it on the dressing-table....
Quick! quick! And the other girls--what are they doing in the kitchen?"

"Both of them have gone on errands."

"What! haven't they got back yet?"

"But, senorito, they have only just gone out!"

"Come now, stop talking, and go after the stove."

Juana left the room, utterly dumfounded; the senorito had suddenly
changed his character; he acted like a madman! He walked up and down
through the house, with long strides; he gave more orders now in a
moment than in a month before, and was vexed at everything that was
said to him. From time to time he would go to his wife, and ask her
anxiously:--

"How are you feeling now?"

More than a hundred times he had been to the door and listened; but no
one came. In desperation he again began his agitated walk. At last he
thought that he heard steps on the stairs.... Could it be!... Nothing;
it was only the janitor carrying up a telegram to the third story. The
mischief take it! Another spell of waiting! "How wretched! Where can
that miserable Placida have gone? Surely she must be gallivanting with
that young sergeant of engineers. How little humanity these servants
have! As soon as the crisis is over, I will give her a walking ticket! I
would much better have sent Juana, who, at least, hasn't any lover....

"Do you feel worse, Maximina? A little tea would not do you any harm....
I will go and make it myself.... Courage!"

"You need it more than I, poor fellow!" said the young wife, smiling.

As he crossed the passage-way, the door-bell rang.

"At last!"

Deceived again! It was the Countess de Losilla, who came to offer her
services "for everything." The young ladies did not come down for
reasons easy to imagine.

"But, Rivera, how pale you are!"

"Senora, there is no small reason for it," he replied peevishly.

"But why, my son?" she demanded. "If there is no complication, as we
have reason to hope, there is nothing more natural and harmless."

Miguel, in his turn, had to use strong efforts to repress his
indignation. "Natural for me to have a son! How stupid the aristocracy
are!" he said to himself.

Maximina received this visit gratefully, but with some feel