the reader may be
able to put to trial some day--I hope so with all my heart The words of
the song are these:--

Byelow! baby, byelow!
See the wild hen fly low!
There at last upon the mast,
Swaying, swinging high low![45]

As to the music, I am inclined to think that success was not attained by
that altogether. However, any one can be sure of obtaining a happy
result provided that--let this be thoroughly understood--provided that
it be repeated a number of times, and the last line sung in a dying
tone. For the stubborn infant to hear it, and to stop, with his eyes
fixed in ecstatic contemplation of no one knew what, was the same thing.
Perhaps it may have been the terrible hen forever swaying on the mast.
The one thing sure was that those little eyes, so open and terrified,
quickly closed in the softest slumber: all the inhabitants of the house
drew a deep sigh of satisfaction: the child was then forthwith carried
to the great nuptial couch, where it was deposited in one corner like a
bundle of linen.

I say that at first Miguel took pleasure in going out to promenade with
his wife; when the baby was hungry Maximina would nurse him, finding a
seat on a bench in some retired spot; then they would go into a "dairy"
near at hand and get some chocolate.

But after a few day's the Brigadier's son, either because of the
exigencies of business or because he desired to chat with his friends,
ceased to join her, suggesting that she go alone with the infant,
because, under no consideration would he consent that the little one
should be deprived of fresh air. With real heartfelt grief, though she
concealed it as much as possible, she yielded to this desire. It was a
great source of gain to the child, it is true, but she could never
entirely conquer the timidity and fear which the Madrid streets inspired
in her when she went out without her husband.

The first two days nothing went wrong in her excursion; but on the
third, as she was walking along a lonely path in the Retiro to eat a bit
of bread, which the nurse-girl had taken on purpose,--for nothing in the
world would have tempted her to enter the chocolate-house alone,--she
unexpectedly met Saavedra. Although she had seen him the day before at
home, she felt a slight trembling, without knowing why; and a bright
blush suffused her face, a sign which was not displeasing to the
Andalusian dandy. He greeted her warmly, caressed the infant, and,
without askin