One morning, as I was carrying a bunch of hawthorns, I met my mother in the vestibule; I was somewhat out of breath, heated, disturbed by a slight intoxication.
"Where is Juliana?" I asked.
"Upstairs, in her room," she answered, laughing.
I ran up the staircase, crossed the corridor, entered the room, crying:
"Juliana, Juliana, where are you?"
Maria and Natalia ran to meet me, giving me a boisterous welcome, delighted at the sight of the flowers, dancing about as if possessed.
"Come in! Come in!" they cried. "Mamma is here, in the bedroom. Come in!"
On crossing the threshold my heart beat faster. Juliana was there, smiling and embarrassed. I threw the bunch at her feet.
"Look!"
"Oh! how beautiful!" she exclaimed, bending over the fragrant treasure.