"If he loses as many as there are in the world," interrupted Doña Amparo, from her little red-satin elbow-chair, "buttons are not everlasting, and I believe that my son would rather go like Adam than trouble others to sew on his buttons!"
She spoke these words with emotion as if they were accusing her son of a fault.
"Although he loses more than there are in the world, it is a matter of no importance, and not worth while for you to put yourself out about, or be vexed with us," replied Martí.
"I am put out about it because it seems to me that everybody has a desire to find fault with my son. The poor fellow is always in disgrace. But until the day he dies his mother will always defend him!"
She uttered these words with even more emotion. I saw with astonishment that she was preparing to weep.
"But, mamma!" exclaimed her son-in-law.
"But, mamma!" exclaimed her daughter-in-law.
Both of them appeared contrite and concerned.
"Such is my maternal passion, my children!" went on Doña Amparo, struggling not to weep. "I cannot help it! We all have faults in this world, but a mother is not able to endure those of her children. I suffer horribly when anyone points them out to me, and much more when it is a member of the family. Some such sad ideas come into my head! It seems to me that you do not care for—I believe that I could die content if I knew that you cared as much for one another as I care for you."
Excess of emotion prevented her from saying more. She let her needlework fall upon her lap, leaned her forehead upon her hand, and seemed half ready to faint away.