"We just followed Periquito to the gallery, and there we found him hand in hand with Ramona," whispered the young man into his sister Venturita's ear.
"Well, what did he say?" she asked with great curiosity.
"He said"—and here a burst of laughter interrupted him for some minutes—"he said, 'Ramona, I love you.'"
"Ave Maria! and an anchovy seller, too!" exclaimed the girl, joining in the laugh, and making the sign of the cross.
"If you could have heard the trembling voice in which he said it, and the way in which he turned up the whites of his eyes—— Ah! here is Piscis, who was also witness of it."
Piscis gave vent to a corroborative grunt. At that moment Periquito, a pallid, lean lad, with blue eyes and a little, thin red beard, appeared in one of the stage boxes; the eyes of the whole Belinchon family were at once turned on him with mocking and smiling glances, Pablito and Venturita evincing particular delight at the sight of the young man. Periquito raised his head and saluted them, and the Belinchon family responded to the greeting without ceasing laughing. He raised his eyes two or three times, but those continual mocking glances so confused him that he at last retired into the narrow foyer. The curtain then rose again: the scene now represented caverns in the infernal regions, although it was not impossible for them to be mistaken for the hold of a ship.
The act opened with a prelude by the orchestra, worthily conducted by Señor Anselmo, the cabinet-maker of the town.
Señor Matias, the sacristan, and Señor Manola, the barber, took part in the performance as bassoon-players. Don Juan, the "old salt," as he was nicknamed, and Prospero, the carpenter, played the clarinets; the trumpet-players were Mechacan, the shoemaker, and Señor Romualdo, the undertaker; Pepe de la Esquila, the lawyer's clerk, and Maroto, "the watchman," were the cornet-players; and the fiddle was played by Señor Benito, the violinist of the church and a clerk in a business house; while the minor accompanists consisted of four or five apprentice youths of the town.
Instead of a bâton, Señor Anselmo held in his hand an enormous bright key, which was that of his shop, and served to conduct the music.
The prelude was very sad and mournful, suggestive of a fitting state of mind for the infernal regions. The audience preserved absolute silence, and in anxious expectation of what was to come all eyes were fixed on the open trap-doors in the stage floor. A discordant note suddenly broke in upon the soft, mysterious music. Señor Anselmo turned and cast a reproachful look at the offending musician, who colored up to his eyes; and there came a loud, prolonged murmur of disapproval from the audience, while from the gallery a voice cried: