"Isn't it true that Cristina is very lovely?" she went on with the same flippancy. "She is such an interesting type, of such delicacy! It is not strange that you should become enamored of her. Of course, I will not have her talked about."
"Señora!"
"No! I know what you would say! She is the best of creatures, virtuous, incapable of failing her husband. Further, Emilio has no equal, so much affection, so much loyalty, so splendid! He adores his wife. I am as proud of him as if he were my own son. I would not consent, for anything in the world, that he should have the least trouble."
"He will not have any on my account, make yourself easy," I ventured to say.
"That is honorable in you, Ribot," she replied, pressing my hand. "You are very good, enough better than that rascal of a Castell," she added, smiling sweetly. "And, truly, you could not do less than be fond of Emilio. He is so good. I always find him so affectionate towards me. But who can blame any poor fellow for falling in love! The wrong is in murmuring soft nothings in the ear of Cristina when Emilio is not looking. We will suppose that they are foolish things, that she has eyes like this and a skin like that. But that is not right. Emilio is his best friend, and if he suspected, he would be disturbed. You, Ribot, are much more respectful. You would not let yourself gaze, except by stealth. But what eyes he makes at her! Come, now, let us see, sinner, did you fall in love at Gijon or here?"
"I beg of you, señora—I—I feel so much upset, I must ask you to allow me to retire."
"How reserved you are, Ribot! Well, this pleases me. Men of few words are those who best know how to care. But with me you ought not to be so timid. I know the affection you have vowed her. Open your heart to me, so that I can do everything possible to console it. To whom better than me can you unbosom yourself?"
"A thousand thanks, señora. Permit me to go. At present I feel that I should not be able to say anything in reason."
"I understand you! I understand you, dear Ribot!" declared Doña Amparo, pressing one of my hands with emotion between both her own. "You are like me, exceedingly sensitive, exceedingly emotional. Don't you want another drop of ether? Neither you nor I is fit for this world. I cannot bear to see anyone suffer. Now here you see me, me who, in spite of my adoration for my son-in-law, for whom I would willingly give my life, am dissolved in tears at seeing you suffering on account of my daughter. I am weeping like mad."
And truly Doña Amparo did not in this moment malign herself.