"Did you know, Captain Ribot, that mamma never swoons except when she is with the family, or among persons in whom she confides? The greatest proof of the sympathy with which you inspire her is that which she has just given."
"Cristina! Cristina!" exclaimed Doña Amparo, half smiling, half indignant.
"Now, be frank, mamma! If Captain Ribot has not won your confidence, how is it you ventured to faint away in his presence?"
Doña Amparo decided to laugh, giving her daughter a pinch. When we parted at the hotel door they invited me to breakfast with them the next day, they having decided to leave for Madrid on the day after that.
It could no longer be doubted; if I was not in love I was on the way to be, with a fair wind and all sails set. Why was it that this woman had impressed me so profoundly in so short a time? I do not think it was merely her figure, although it coincided with the ideal type of beauty that I had always adored. If I had fallen in love with all the white and slender women with dark eyes that I had met in the course of my life, there would not have remained any time to do anything else. But she had a special attractiveness, at least for me, which consisted in a singular combination of joyousness and gravity, of sweetness and brusqueness, of daring and timidity, alternately reflected in her expressive countenance.
The next day, at the appointed time, I presented myself at the hotel. Doña Cristina was in most delightful humor and let me know that we were to breakfast alone, for her mother had not slept well the night before and was still in bed. This filled me with selfish satisfaction, observing her merry mood. Before going to the table she served me an appetizer, graciously ridiculing me.
"Since you always have such a delicate appetite, and look so languishing, I have ordered something bitter for you, to see if we cannot give a little tone to that stomach of yours."
I fell in with the jest.
"I am in despair. I comprehend that it is ridiculous to have such a ready appetite, but I am a man of honor and I confess it. One time when I attempted to conceal it I missed my reckoning. One of my passengers was a certain very charming and spirituelle lady towards whom I felt somewhat favorably disposed. I could think of no better means to inspire her interest than to feign an absolute lack of appetite, naturally accompanied by languor and poetic melancholy. At table I refused the greater part of the dishes. My nourishment consisted of tapioca, vanilla cream, some fruit, and much coffee. Then I complained of weakness, and ordered glasses of sherry with biscuit. Of course I suffered terribly from hunger; but I overcame it finely in solitude. The lady became enthusiastic; she professed for me a profound and sincere admiration, and despised for their grossness all those at the table who were served with more solid nutriment. But, alas! there came a moment when she unexpectedly came down into the dining-saloon and surprised me feasting on cold ham. That ended the affair. She never spoke another word to me."
"She did right," said Doña Cristina, with a laugh. "Hypocrisy is something more shameful than a good appetite."