Sabas then permitted several snorts to escape him, mingled with incoherent words, and accompanied by a gnashing of teeth that the sarcastic smile still upon his lips made even more repellent.
With heroic courage I tried to soothe his troubled spirit. The winds fell, the waves became tranquil, and he said to me affably:
"You are going to dine on a paella to-day. I know it already from Cristina. My sister has a cook who stews like an angel."
Matilde finished sewing on the button. When she lifted her head I saw tears in her eyes.
Sabas gave the signal for starting, but first he sent his good lady to find his gloves, to bring his stick, and then his handkerchief. He drenched it with scent from a perfume bottle, gave the last polish to his shoes, and a few touches of the comb to his whiskers. Matilde fluttered about him like a butterfly, arranging his coat and his cravat and his hat with her plump white hands. And when he, dismissing her, took her chin in his hand with a careless, protecting gesture her eyes shone with a radiant, triumphant expression that seemed to transport her to the heavens.
In the passage as we were going out we encountered the three children, who would have thrown themselves upon their father to be kissed, but he stopped them with a threatening gesture.
"No, I can't now. I should be all slobbered over."
I, who had no fears of being daubed, kissed them with pleasure, wishing to make amends to them for his crossness. Vain hope! They received my caresses with indifference, following with their eyes their elegant and morose papa.
Matilde watched us from the top of the stair, having eyes for nothing but her husband. She noticed that the collar-band of his shirt did not fit well, on account of his overcoat, hastened to pull it down for him and turn it up; and profited by the opportunity to give a few more touches to his whiskers with her fingers.
It was now eleven o'clock in the forenoon. The streets were full of people. The sun shone in the sky in all its splendor. We breathed a perfumed air, proving ourselves to be in the city of flowers. At every step we encountered servants carrying branches and sprays of them that loving ones were sending to delight their friends. In Valencia flowers make up so large a part of life, and their use is so general and natural, that the sending of flowers is like saying good-morning. Contemplating this profusion of carnations, roses, and lilies that rejoice the eyes and make fragrant the air, I could not help saying, "This is the city where there is so much that is lovely to enjoy that it matters little what one does with one's days!"