“In that case I have the firm conviction that between you and me, between us two, dear Rosarito, perfect harmony would still exist. On this point I cannot be mistaken. My heart tells me that I am not mistaken.”
Rosarito blushed deeply, but making an effort to conceal her embarrassment under smiles and fugitive glances, she said:
“Come, now, no pretences. But if you mean that I shall always approve of what you say, you are right.”
“Rosario,” exclaimed the young man, “the moment I saw you my soul was filled with gladness; I felt at the same time a regret that I had not come before to Orbajosa.”
“Now, that I am not going to believe,” she said, affecting gayety to conceal her emotion. “So soon? Don’t begin to make protestations already. See, Pepe, I am only a country girl, I can talk only about common things; I don’t know French; I don’t dress with elegance; all I know is how to play the piano; I——”
“Oh, Rosario!” cried the young man, with ardor; “I believed you to be perfect before; now I am sure you are so.”
Her mother at this moment entered the room. Rosarito, who did not know what to say in answer to her cousin’s last words, was conscious, however, of the necessity of saying something, and, looking at her mother, she cried:
“Ah! I forgot to give the parrot his dinner.”
“Don’t mind that now. But why do you stay in here? Take your cousin for a walk in the garden.”
Doña Perfecta smiled with maternal kindness at her nephew, as she pointed toward the leafy avenue which was visible through the glass door.