The youth acceded to the suggestion, as he ventured to raise his eyes to the girl's, but he quickly dropped them as if he feared their magnetism. He took the book from her lap on to his knee, put a piece of white paper on it, and proceeded to draw.
But instead of the letters, he began to sketch, with some skill, the head of a woman; first the hair parted in two braids, then the straight, pretty forehead, then a delicate nose, a pretty, short chin joined to the throat by a soft, graceful curve. It was wonderfully like Venturita. The girl, leaning on the shoulder of her future brother, followed the movements of the pencil, and a vain smile gradually overspread her face. After drawing the head Gonzalo proceeded to delineate the figure, and the peignoir, or dressing-gown, worn by the girl was soon reproduced; but he took some time drawing minutely the silk bows with which it was fastened in front. When the picture was finished, Venturita asked him in a mischievous tone:
"Now put underneath who it is."
The young man raised his head and their smiling eyes met. Then, quickly and decisively, he wrote under the drawing:
"The one I love best in all the world."
Venturita took the paper in her hands and looked at it with delight for some moments; then, with a pout of assumed disdain, she gave it back to him, saying:
"Take it, take it, you rude fellow."
But before it reached Gonzalo's hands Cecilia stretched out hers and snatched it from him laughingly, saying:
"What papers are these?"
Then Venturita sprang from her seat, as if she had been stung, and caught hold of her sister's hand.