After Maria's birth Doña Gertrudis's sufferings did not disappear, but they returned in a new form. Her heart was considerably calmed down, but instead, all the afflicted señora's muscles and tendons began to suffer contraction, causing powerful pains, preventing her for some months from using her limbs at all, and finally leaving her, though greatly improved, yet obliged when she walked to lean on her husband or one of her daughters. Don Maximo at the beginning of this new phase showed himself preoccupied and captious to the last degree; he studied with watchful eye all the symptoms and causes, prescribed remedies for spasms by the gallon, made use, in a word, of all the resources which science (that is, Don Maximo's science) offers for such emergencies, but without reaching any satisfactory results. At length the word cajigalinas, of Semitic origin, once more appeared on his lips, and from that time on he never entered the señora's room without a slight smile of incredulity hovering on his dark face.
Ricardo still remained a while at Doña Gertrudis's side, and then he left her to scour the house in search of the girls. He found Marta in the kitchen busily engaged in making pastry for pies.
"Where's Maria, ma petite ménagére?"
"She's in her room, dressing; she'll be down soon."
"If I disturb you in your work, I'm going; if not, I'll stay."
"You don't disturb me, if you'll only stand out of the light a little—there, that'll do!"
"All right! I'll stay and learn how to make—what is it you're making?"
"Pork pies."
"Well, then, to make pork pies."
The girl raised her head, smiling at her future brother-in-law, and then she resumed her work. She was standing at a low table which, judging from its shining surface, was meant for the operation now going on. She wore an enormous white apron like the kitchen girls, and on her head a cap no less white. Her great bright black eyes made a more brilliant contrast with this costume, and so did her jetty hair. She had rolled up the sleeves of her dress and bared a pair of soft arms, which were more fully rounded than might have been expected at her age. Her arms bespoke a woman in full possession of all the piquant attractions, all the graceful curves of her sex; they were the smooth white arms of a Flemish maiden, but solid and well-knit like those of a working-girl; they might have served as a model for a sculptor, or to keep a room in daintiest order. With them she rolled from side to side, on the top of the table, a great lump of yellowish dough, manipulating it and doubling it over and over constantly without thought of rest. The dough spread out softly over the table because of the lard which shortened it, making a slight noise like the rustle of silk. A few maid-servants were bustling about the kitchen, attending to their duties. Ricardo watched the operation for an instant without speaking, but before long he exclaimed with signs of astonishment,—