"Let her please herself," replied Golfin, looking down admiringly at the girl. "Every young lady has her own way of wasting her pin-money."
"And I am not to object if her charity brings her to destitution, to bankruptcy!" exclaimed Don Manuel, marching up and down the room in pompous indignation, with his hands in his pockets. "Besides, is there no better method of charity than this? She wished to show her gratitude to God for my nephew's recovery—well and good—very proper, a very Christian feeling. But we shall see, we shall see."
He stopped in front of Nela and looked at her kindly.
"Now, would it not have been better," he said, "if, instead of bringing this poor girl into the house, my daughter had organized one of those grand charitable affairs, which are the fashion even at court, and which give all the best people in society an opportunity of displaying their good feeling? Why did you not think of holding a lottery? We could easily have sold any number of tickets among our friends, and have collected a handsome sum of money to give away to charitable asylums. Why, you might have got up an association among the gentry of Villamojada and the neighborhood, or have invited all our acquaintance at Santa Irene de Campó to join you, and have held meetings and collected a great deal of money.—Nay, why not have got up a bull-fight? I would have undertaken to provide the beasts and the men.—Or amateur theatricals?—Last night Doña Sofía and I were talking of that very thing. Learn from her, my dear, learn from her. The poor owe more to her than I can tell you. There are all the families who live by the employment they get in working the lotteries—there are all the professionals and subordinates who make money by the theatrical performances! Oh! my dear, the paupers in the workhouse are not the only poor! Sofía told me that they made a little fortune out of the masked balls they gave this winter. A good deal of it was spent, of course, in gas, in renting the theatre, in service, and so forth—still there was a morsel of bread left for the poor after all.—But, if you do not believe me, read the statistics, child—read the statistics."
Florentina laughed, and found no better answer than to repeat the surgeon's apology for her:
"Every young lady has her own way of wasting her pin-money."
"But Don Teodoro," remonstrated Don Manuel, in great disgust: "You must admit that no one else does it as my daughter does."
"I quite admit it," said Golfin with meaning, and looking at the girl: "No one is like Florentina."
"And yet—with all her faults," said the father, drawing her to him: "With all her faults, I love her better than my life. This little hussy is worth her weight in gold.—Come, tell me, which do you like best, Aldeacorba de Suso, or Santa Irene de Campó?"
"I do not dislike Aldeacorba."