As the young girl came out from among the brambles, Don Manuel perceived Nela, at the moment when she had just recovered from her delusion, and he called out as he turned to her:
"Hallo! and who are you? Why, look Florentina, it is Nela, the little body that waits upon your cousin. You remember—I spoke of her to you? And how are you now-a-days?"
"Very well, Señor Don Manuel. And you.—How are you, Señor?" asked Mariquilla without taking her eyes off Florentina.
"Perfectly well—as you see. This is my daughter.—Well, what do you think of her?"
Florentina had just set out on a butterfly chase.
"My dear child, where are you going? What do you want now?" said the father, visibly annoyed. "Now do you think it looks well that you should be running after an insect like some poor child? You must not be so wild, my child. Young ladies brought up in good society do not do such things—never do such things...."
It was a trick with Don Manuel to repeat the last clause of his sentences to give them emphasis.
"Ah! do not be cross, Papa," said the girl, returning from her fruitless chase to shelter herself under the protecting brim of the paternal hat. "You know how much I love the country and that I am half crazy when I see trees and flowers and meadows. And in that dismal town of Campó I never see anything of the kind...."
"Oh! but you must not say anything against Santa Irene de Campó; it is a famous town where you find every comfort and convenience, and a great deal of very distinguished society. It stands in the foremost ranks of civilization—yes, of civilization. You can admire the beauties of Nature while you walk properly by my side. I admire them too, but without cutting capers or turning somersaults. You can tell when a young person has moved in good society only by her way of walking and looking at the scene around her. This way of calling out at every minute: Ah! Oh! Look there, Papa!—How pretty!—and pointing to a fern, perhaps, or an oak-tree, or a rock—a thorn-bush even, a brook—is not at all in good taste—people will think you have lived in a desert. So come and walk by me.—Nela will show us the way home, for, to tell you the truth, I do not know where we are."
"If we turn to the left, past that old house," said Nela readily, "we shall be there directly.—But here comes Don Francisco."