Miguel went to his room, flushed with anger.
"Maximina, get ready and pack your trunks.... We are going to leave this house this very moment.... I cannot allow any one to make you cry."
The young woman sat looking at her husband with an expression rather of fright than of gratitude.
"But suppose no one made me cry.... I cried without any reason for it.... I often do so.... You can ask my aunt if that is not so...."
"Nonsense! we are going this very moment."
"Oh, Miguel! for Heaven's sake don't do so."
"Yes; let us go!"
Maximina threw herself into his arms, weeping.
"Don't do this, Miguel! don't do this! Quarrel with your mother for my sake? I would rather die!"
The young man's anger cooled down a little, and at last he agreed to say nothing about his vexation, though it was decided that they should go on the following day and sleep at their new rooms.