Don Torribio turned pale; a mist passed before his eyes, he felt a deadly agony in his heart, and thought he was going to die. Doña Concha curiously followed his secret thoughts upon his face; but, feeling that all eyes were fixed upon him, the young man made a superhuman effort, and said to the young lady in a soft voice, and without any apparent emotion—
"May you be as happy, señorita, as I wish you. The first wish, people say, is efficacious, so accept mine."
"I thank you, sir," Doña Concha answered, deceived by Don Torribio's accent.
"As for you, Señor d'Arenal, your happiness will make many men jealous; for you are taking away the most precious pearl in the rich casket of the Argentine republic."
"I will strive, señor, to be worthy of her; for I love her so dearly."
"They love one another so dearly," the father said with cruel simplicity.
The young lovers exchanged a glance full of hope and happiness. Neither Don Valentine's last remark, nor the look of the betrothed couple, was left unnoticed by Don Torribio, who though not letting anything be seen, received this double dagger thrust, and concealed his grief beneath a smile.
"By Jove, neighbour," the father continued, "you will be present at the festival of betrothal, and give up your evening to us."
"Impossible, señor; important business calls me to my estancia, and, to my great regret, I must leave you."
"Still, if my daughter joined with me—"