Cristina, who until then had been quiet, and on whose brow I could see the lines marked by the scene of the morning, now began quickly to wake up a bit. Her face was so lively that everybody admired it. They had not seen her like that in years. Doña Amparo declared that since she was a little girl, when her playfulness and tricks had caused her mother more than one start, Cristina had not frolicked in such fashion. We encouraged her, applauded her, threw her chufas and almonds until she began to show a wish to dance also. Emilio and her mother would not let her, on account of her condition. But nonsense and witticisms kept on issuing from her mouth, splitting everybody's sides with laughter. She had a lively wit, and she got her words off with a brusque naturalness that gave them a great effect. Some things that she said seemed to me a little dashing, but I admired her so much that I did not mind them. When anyone talks a great deal of nonsense, it is almost impossible to keep within strictly prudent limits.
"This is all right," said Sabas in my ear, seating himself beside me. "Now you have a chance to strike while the iron is hot. Get in with my uncle. Talk to him about the subject that will butter your bread."
I laughed, but took no further notice. I went on paying court to Isabelita with everybody's good will. I mistake—Doña Clara looked at us now and then with eyes whose expression was a trifle more severe than usual, and she sniffed her Roman nose when we chanced to take a little luncheon of chufas. I do not know but I may be wrong, but two or three times I had a notion that I heard her murmur the English word, "Shocking!" This would have been nothing strange, for in difficult places this illustrious matron preferred the Anglo-Saxon language to her native idiom. That which I can fearlessly affirm, and nobody will contradict, is that I saw her eat more than a kilo of chocolates, and that this operation, however vulgar in itself, did not make her lose one atom of her majesty.
The hour arrived for us to go back to the house for our carriages, to return to the city. But at the moment of starting to walk, Cristina felt very badly. I saw that she grew pale and put her hand several times to her head and heart. The sal-volatile of Doña Amparo was of no avail; neither was the orange-flower water nor the Melisa water, nor other remedies that, like faithful friends, accompanied this nervous lady everywhere. Cristina begged us to leave her alone a moment with Tonet's wife, who would bring her a cup of tila. A quarter of an hour later she came out of the cottage, serene, but with reddened eyes. The nervous crisis had ended in tears.
The sun had already disappeared when we started on our walk through the fields of Indian corn and the little fruit orchards. Calming my dashing gallantry and stifling the gush of vanity that had burst forth in my spirit at the supposed admiration of Isabelita, I remained silent and sad. As I was walking apart in company with her and Matilde, I did my utmost to hide it; but seeing that this was impossible, and fearing that they would notice my mood, I made a feint for the purpose of falling back to walk alone. I was displeased with myself. The gallantry of that afternoon seemed to me a treason to my true sentiment, to the sweet and delicate love that I guarded like a treasure in the depth of my heart. I could not but think with disgust that I had descended to the most trivial cheapness. I was afraid, with good reason, that Cristina, whose regard and esteem for me had seemed increasing, would despise me from that hour, and this thought hurt me deeply.
Since her indisposition she had not turned towards me or looked at me, nor spoken a word to me. Luck made it so that she could not help speaking. She had forgotten her watch and left it in the cottage and wished to go back for it. I quickly anticipated her. When I returned with it, she waited for me, a little apart from the others.
"Thank you," she said, with a hard, cold face, and tried to rejoin the rest.
Whoever has experienced the pangs of love will believe me when I say that that gloomy countenance gave me inexpressible joy.
"Listen to me a moment, Cristina; I have something to say." I spoke with a voice not quite under control.
"You may say it," she replied, looking over my head at the horizon, and in a glacial tone that, for a like reason, warmed instead of chilling me.