"No; it is a shame to mutilate a growing plant."
"It won't mutilate it. I am going to make you a little bouquet. Maximina, bring me some thread and a pair of scissors."
The young wife went for what he wanted, and handed them to him gravely, without saying a word. Then she went and sat down on the sofa, and from there watched the arrangement of the bouquet.
While this was proceeding, Miguel and Filomena kept up a constant warfare of repartees, in which the young lady showed sovereign freedom, and he very little respect for her.
Maximina listened to what they said, perhaps without understanding a word; but the expression of her sweet eyes kept growing more and more grave and thoughtful.
Finally Miguel handed the young lady the bouquet, with a gallant smile. She accepted it with a smile of thanks.
"For this gallant action I forgive you for all the saucy things that you have said to me. Caramba! it is already eleven o'clock!" said she, consulting the clock that stood in front of the mirror, "and mamma told me to make haste! Adiós, Miguel! see you later, Maximina!"
And she flew from the room like a rocket, and opened and shut the outer door herself. The keen and somewhat mocking glance which she gave Maximina as she went out showed that she had an inkling of what was passing through her mind at that moment.
The young wife started to rise; but when she saw how swiftly Filomena was taking her departure, she sat down again, and remained there with her arms by her side, her head bent over, and her eyes on the floor. Miguel was looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, and understanding perfectly what that attitude signified: he hesitated for several minutes before he threw his arm around her.
"What is the matter?" he asked, drawing nearer and sitting down by her side.