"Whom is that bouquet for?"
"For Maria, who wants to begin her flowers for the Virgin this evening. She asked me to make two, and I keep one in the house."
A flash of joy passed through the young man's eyes at the mention of his sweetheart's name, and he began to take an interest in the formation of the nosegay. Marta noticed particularly her future brother's joy and interest. Between the three pansies she placed three pinks,—one red, one rose-colored, and the other white. Then she took a number of leaves of sweet marjoram and rose, and tied up with them the growing bouquet; thereupon she placed all around it a row of marguerites, alternating the colors,—purple, white, blue, and mottled.
"Now, you ought to put in some pinks," added Ricardo, with the boldness of ignorance.
"Hush, Ricardo, you don't know what you are talking about.... Now you want a filling of sweet marjoram and althea, so that the marguerites may have a background.... Flowers must be loose and not touch each other, so that each may preserve its form in the bunch.... Do you see?... Now a row of roses can be added without fear of crushing the marguerites ... a white one, then a red one ... a white one ... another red one ... there! that'll do!"
The thread unrolled between her fingers, gently binding the flowers together; the nosegay went on assuming a pyramidal form very well proportioned. Ricardo, looking into the basket, saw some extremely bright-colored geraniums, and cried out,—
"Oh, how lovely those geraniums are!... Such a bright color ought to become you, Martita; put one in your hair."
The girl, without more ado, took the one that he offered her, and stuck it in her dark locks above her ear. This combination of red and black, which is vulgar, as all girls know, appeared more harmonious than ordinarily, through the exceptional intensity not only of the black, but of the red. The geranium, on being translated to that position, seemed to have fulfilled its destiny on earth, or to have realized its essence, as my friend Homobono Pereda, shining with more beauty and satisfaction than ever, would say. Ricardo contemplated Marta's head with genuine admiration, while an innocent smile of triumph hovered over her lips and in her eyes.
Around the roses she placed, instead of the green setting of sweet marjoram and althea, another of white and blue violets, and next a row of geraniums of all colors, combining them exquisitely. The bouquet was finished. To add a crowning grace she put in a few handfuls of thyme, arranging them in such a way that they might serve as a support. The flowers, all artistically combined, appeared loose, each one showing its own individuality, or, as my friend Homobono would add, perfectly united in the whole.
Marta lifted the nosegay up, saying, with childish delight,--