“What? Cologne water, perhaps. I forgot to bring you my necessaire.”
“No, indeed,—the trunk which contained my linen—I could not change my things.”
Artegui rose.
“Why did you not mention this before?” he said. “We are precisely in the place where Spanish brides purchase their wedding outfits!—I will be back directly.”
“But—where are you going?”
“To bring you a couple of changes of linen; you must be in torture with those dusty garments.”
“Señor de Artegui! for Heaven’s sake! I am imposing on your good nature; wait——”
“Why do you not come with me to choose them?”
And Artegui handed Lucía her toque.
The scruples that at first presented themselves to the young girl’s mind vanished quickly like a flock of frightened quail, and a little confused, but still more happy, she hastily took Artegui’s offered arm.