The second sister, Rita, had had several attachments, but her papa had objected to them. The young man who loved her was a poet; he was poor. Nothing could induce her papa to give up his opposition and accept him for a son-in-law. When least they thought of such a thing, he had in desperation disappeared from Santiago, after taking a tender farewell of Rita,—the lady objected to having the romantic details of this farewell related!—and nothing more was ever heard of him. Some supposed that he had perished in the claws of a tiger while searching for a gold mine in California.
As for the third, Carolina, she was a regular flyaway! Her brother and sisters had never been able to tame her down. When at home they had the greatest reason to think she was in love and that the affair was becoming serious, poum! one fine evening she suddenly jilted her lover and took a new one in his place! Carolina, who was forty-five at the very lowest reckoning, became quite rosy when she heard this report, and exclaimed, with a fascinating smile:—
"Don't you heed what they say, Maximina! How silly that girl is!... To be sure I cannot deny that I like change; but who does not? Men have to be punished from time to time, for they are very bad! very bad! Don't you be vexed, Señor Rivera.... That is the reason why I said to myself, 'I shall not give my heart to any one whatever.'"
"That means," said Rita, "that you have never been really in love!"
"Very likely; as yet I have not been troubled with those anxieties and worriments which lovers, they say, suffer from. No man ever pleased me for more than a fortnight."
"How terrible!" exclaimed Dolores and Rita, laughing.
"Don't say such things, you silly girl!"
"Why shouldn't I say what I feel, Rita?"
"Because it isn't proper. Young ladies ought to be careful what they say!"
"Come now, Carolina," urged Miguel, assuming great seriousness, "in the name of humanity I beg you to soften your hard heart and listen to some happy man!"