Meantime the train continued on its way. The tears of the bride had ceased to flow, leaving scarcely a trace behind them, even in reddened eyelids. So it is with the tears we shed in youth—tears without bitterness that, like a gentle dew, refresh instead of scorching. She began to be interested by the stations which they passed along the route and the people that looked in curiously at the door of the compartment. She put a thousand questions to Miranda, who explained everything to her, sparing no effort to amuse her, and varying his explanations with an occasional tender speech which the young girl heard without emotion, thinking it the most natural thing in the world that a husband should manifest affection for his wife, and betraying by not the lightest heaving of the chest the sweet confusion that love awakens. Miranda once more found himself in his element, tears having ceased and serenity and good-humor being restored. Pleased with the result, he even thanked in his own mind one of the causes that had contributed to it—an old woman carrying an enormous basket on her arm, who slipped into the compartment a few stations before Palencia, and whose grotesque appearance helped to call back a smile to Lucía’s lips.
On reaching Palencia, the old woman left the compartment, and a well-dressed man with a serious expression of countenance silently entered.
“He looks like papa,” said Lucía in a low voice to Miranda. “Poor papa!” And this time a sigh only was the tribute paid to filial affection.
Night was approaching; the train moved slowly, as if fearing to trust itself to the rails, and Miranda observed that they were greatly behind time.
“We shall arrive at Venta de Baños,” he said, turning the leaf of the Guide, “much later than the usual time.”
“And in Venta de Baños——” began Lucía.
“We can sup—if they allow us time to do so. Under ordinary circumstances there is not only time to sup but also to rest a little, while waiting for the other train, the express, which is to take us to France.”
“To France!” Lucía clapped her hands as if she had just heard a delightful and unexpected piece of intelligence. Then, with a thoughtful air, she added gravely. “Well, for my part, I should like to have some supper.”
“We shall sup there, of course; at least I hope the train will stop long enough to allow us to do so. You have an appetite, eh? The fact is that you have eaten scarcely anything to-day.”
“With the hurry and excitement, and attending to the serving of the chocolate, and grief at leaving poor papa and seeing him so downcast—and——”