“It seems impossible that you should not know about it,” he said. “Last summer your mother and she became very intimate. She is Carmiña Aldao, don’t you know? Carmiña Aldao of Pontevedra.”
“I don’t know her; however, the name sounds familiar. Perhaps my mother may have written to me about her. I don’t know. You know I had no vacation last summer.”
“That’s true. Well, she is the young Aldao girl, the daughter of the owner of that fine property called the Tejo.”
“Is she an only child?” I inquired, somewhat sharply, thinking perhaps self-interest was the motive for the marriage.
“Oh, no! she has a brother who also lives in Pontevedra.”
“Well, I don’t know her,” I repeated. “But anyhow, if she is going to marry you, I’ll have plenty of time to become acquainted with her.”
“Of course you will, as I am going to take you to the wedding, my boy. As soon as you pass your examination, you must go there with me. The thing will not take place before Carmen’s birth-day, and between now and then I have yet to find a house, and to furnish it,—so you see!”
“Ah, so you are going to live in Madrid?”
“Yes, the bride wants to do so. I’ll take you to the wedding, you may be sure of that. We shall be married at Tejo! Look here, I don’t know what your mother will think of it. She has a temper somewhat peculiar. So if you write to her, tell her that I shall not give you the cold shoulder, when I get married. Until you finish your studies——”
“I believe I didn’t say anything about that,” I exclaimed, while for the second time the glass of champagne trembled in my hand.