We walked on together through the high-growing corn which made even dimmer the fading twilight.
I watched her out of the corner of my eye, and it seemed to me that I could detect slight, almost imperceptible, changes sweep over her face. Soon her brow contracted and her lips moved several times before a sound escaped them. At last she said in a trembling voice:
"It makes me very happy that you have made your choice at last. Men ought not to live alone, and especially those who, like you, have an affectionate, indulgent temperament, and know how to appreciate the delicate heart of a woman. Isabelita is almost a child; I can tell you little about her character. You will take it upon yourself to form her. But I can assure you that she knows how to fulfil the duties of a housewife. She is industrious, careful, economical; and under these qualities are hid others that will show themselves. She is very pretty, too."
"You have forgotten the one which makes her dearest and most attractive to me."
"What?"
"That of being your cousin."
Her beautiful face darkened; she frowned and replied in a sharp tone:
"If you do not care for my cousin for herself, if you would take her as a toy to distract you from other illusions, or, which would be worse, to follow and nourish them in secret, you would commit a great sin; and I should in such case advise you not to think of her, but to leave her in peace."
Uttering these words, she hastened on and joined the others, leaving me alone.
When we got into the carriages to return to the city, I was melancholy, too wrapped up in serious meditations to go on playing the boy with Isabelita. Under pretext of a headache I found a place alone at the back, and to support my pretext I did not go up to Martí's house, but retired to my hotel.