"Mother, Sister Luísa has just boasted that she sews better than Sister Isabel, and she lost her temper because I told her that she ought not to do it."
"Is it true, daughter?" demanded the Mother Superior, in a severe tone.
Sister Luísa hung her head.
The Mother Superior meditated a moment or two; then she said:—
"Daughter, you know well that here no one ought to boast of doing anything better than any one else.... You ought to believe yourself the least of all, for perhaps you are.... For some time you have been very far from humble, and it is necessary for us to begin to correct this fault.... First thing, go and ask pardon of Sister Isabel for your fault, and then shut yourself in your cell and pray a rosary to the Virgin.... Afterwards when I am in the reception-room with the novice, you must present yourself there and kneel, so that the people may see that you are in disgrace."
Sister Luísa bent her head still lower and hurried away. A smile of triumph hovered over the lips of the nun.
At the same time, the servants of the Elorza mansion were coming and going, hither and thither, with various objects in their hands. Pedro, the old coachman, was polishing the state carriage, while two stable-boys were grooming the horses. Martin, the cook, was preparing a splendid collation. The maid-servants were running up and down stairs, from the principal floor to Maria's apartments, which were full of people, though it was not yet ten o'clock in the morning. The fifteen or twenty ladies who could scarcely find room to turn around, were all talking at once, as is natural, turning that silent elegant retreat into an insufferable hen-roost. Standing in the middle of it was Señor de Elorza's eldest daughter, half-dressed, and around her were several ladies, some of them on their knees, adorning her and adjusting her as though she were a wooden virgin. Great emotion reigned everywhere. They had already put on her a costly garment of white satin, decorated in front, from the neck to the bottom of the skirt, with a fringe of orange flowers. One lady was just putting on her feet a pair of diminutive and most elegant boots of the same cloth, while another was hurriedly sewing on a number of flowers, which had fallen off. Others were arranging a garland of orange blossoms upon the top of her head; this proceeding caused a great commotion. Amparito Ciudad claimed that the garland was too large, and did not show enough of her friend's beautiful hair; the rest believed that there was no need of making it smaller. After a lively discussion, it was decided to adopt a middle course by taking a number of flowers, though very few, from the wreath. Frequent exclamations were heard from those who took no share in the preparations.
"Ay! what an expense it takes, Dios mio!"
"Can it be her true vocation!... A girl so young and so lively!"
"There is nothing else talked about in town.... Everybody is excited over this fortunate event!"