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 Señores 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 Señor de Aguilar would be willing to give me for this triptich?"
"I haven't the slightest idea."