tone of grief:--

"Strange circumstances that oblige me to leave my wife alone on the day
after she has presented me with a son! Nevertheless, it is for her and
for him that I do it. If I were a bachelor, it would not make much
difference if I were ruined."

After he was dressed, and before they went down into the dining-room,
Mendoza showed his friend the jewels that he was going to present to his
"future." They were magnificent and in the latest style. Miguel praised
them as they deserved, at the same time wondering where Perico had got
the money to buy them; and though he was much tempted to ask him, he had
the delicacy not to do so.

Then they went down to a private room on the _entresol_ floor, where
Brutandor was in the habit of breakfasting alone. The waiter served them
a remarkably fine breakfast, among other things, Burgundy and champagne
_frappe_ for dessert.

"This is extravagant, Perico," he said. "The next time I shall forbid
your treating me in such style."

"The senorito always breakfasts like this," said the waiter, smiling
with evident satisfaction.

"_Hola!_" exclaimed Miguel, in surprise. "Who could have believed,
Perico, that those heavy leaders that you used to write in _La
Independencia_ would have been so quickly coined into oysters, fillets
of veal, and Burgundy!"

Brutandor dropped his head, and there are reasons for belief that the
precursory symptoms of a smile appeared in his face. However, if any one
should be inclined to deny it, there would not fail to be arguments in
support of such an opinion. Mendoza's smiles always gave room for
dispute.

After breakfast they betook themselves to Congress, not, however,
without the Amphitryon first hurrying up to his room, and bringing down
a package of documents, which proved to be notes for his speech.

"_Maria Santisima!_" cried Miguel. "How calm and undisturbed are the
poor deputies who at this moment are without a thought of the coming
earthquake!"

They arrived in altogether too good season. There were but few people in
the _salon_ and the lobbies. Mendoza went to join a group of personages,
grave and solemn like himself, and began to talk with them. When one
spoke, the others maintained a courteous silence; there might be some
question, however, whether they listened very attentively, but there was
no room for doubt that each one listened to himself with perfect
delight. Miguel joined a group of journalists where tumultuous gayety