"I prophesy that it won't be long before you dispose of this saucer of preserve, Martita. The thing is to begin. The worst of it is, it's now twelve o'clock, and at dinner-time I shan't have any appetite.—Yet I don't know how far that's certain, for my stomach is a good one!—Martita, don't be foolish, but eat this preserve, which you will find appetizing."
While Ricardo was bringing his task of feasting and chattering to an end, Genoveva came into the dining-room, saying,—
"The Señorita Maria has a little headache and is resting in her room."
"I'll go to her," cried Marta, hurrying away.
"And I bring you this message from her, señorito," added the maid, handing him a note.
But seeing that the young man was about to break the seal, she said,—
"The señorita wanted you not to read it till after you had left the house."
"Very good," muttered Ricardo, somewhat disturbed.
And taking his hat, and without saying farewell to any one, he hurried home devoured by impatience, and tearing open the envelope with trembling hand, he read the following letter:—
"MI QUERIDÍSIMO RICARDO,—