e seated her on his knees, and began to kiss her
passionately.

Maximina grew as red as a cherry, and though she was conscious that all
this sort of thing was eminently proper, she managed gently to escape
from his arms. Miguel, who himself felt rather confused, allowed her to
get up and leave the room: he followed her shortly after.

It was Sunday, and they had to go to mass. As _la brigadiera_ and Julia
had already been, Maximina, Miguel, and Juana were the only ones to go,
and they chose San Ginez. The maid, who would not have considered it as
going to church at all if she did not have a full view of the priest
from head to foot, made her way through the crowd and took her place
near the altar. The young couple stationed themselves a little farther
back. Never before had the incruental sacrifice seemed so beautiful to
Miguel, and never had he taken so much joy in it, although his
imagination did not wing its flight exactly in the direction of
Golgotha, nor were his eyes always turned toward the officiating
clergyman. Heaven, which is ever very merciful to the newly wedded, has
ere this forgiven him these shortcomings.

After breakfast Miguel proposed a walk through the _Retiro_[6]; the
afternoon, though cold, was calm and clear. _La brigadiera_ did not care
to accompany them, but what delight Julita took in helping her
sister-in-law dress, and in giving the last touches to her toilette! She
selected the dress for her to wear, and helped her put it on; she
arranged her hair according to the fashion, fastened on her jewelry, and
the flowers in her bosom, and even brushed her boots. She was rosy with
delight in performing these offices. As soon as they reached the street,
she walked along by her side, intoxicated with pride, in a sweetly
patronizing way, as though saying: "Just behold this young creature,
even younger than I am! And yet she is a married lady! Treat her with
great respect!"

Before reaching the Park, Miguel, accidentally looking back, saw in the
dim distance of the Calle de Alcala, diminished by the density of the
ambient air, the delicate profile of Utrilla, that famous cadet of yore,
and he said calmly to his wife:--

"Now, Maximina, though we seem to be mere private citizens going out for
a walk to sun ourselves in the _Retiro_, still we have a military
escort."

Julita blushed.

"An escort? I see no one," exclaimed Maximina, turning her head.

"It is not so easy; but by and by I will give y