"O los ojos negros!" she exclaimed playfully, as with her pretty hands she patted my eyebrows. The blood rushed to my temples—I ventured to kiss her cheek, and then drew back, abashed at my own temerity; but the graceful girl merely laughed, and said—
"I assure you, Señor Don Philip, that if any other person but you had ventured to do that, I should have been exceedingly angry." With a being so playful and artificial as Prudentia, I did not reflect how much good and sincere feeling I was perhaps lavishing before the shrine of a goddess who might yield me no reward; but, as I kissed her, my whole soul seemed to tremble on my lips, for I was but a boy—an ardent and impassioned boy. In Prudentia nothing charmed me more, next to her winning manner, than the luxuriance, the gloss, and the lustre of her magnificent hair. It was her most glorious ornament; fastened by two pearl pins, which contrasted so well with its blackness, it towered behind in rich braids, and fell over her neck in a shower of ringlets. I have heard it remarked that women of good hearts and happy dispositions, have ever the most luxuriant hair and the finest teeth.
"'Tis all very well to get pretty presents from lovers," said she; "to have them applauding my songs and dances, to have them for laughing with and talking to; but as for marrying—pho! I can never marry!"
"Never!" I repeated, not knowing very well what to say; for much as I loved her, and I did so with all the heedless ardour of twenty—I had not considered the chances of a climax so awful.
"No—-never! look, at these two couples on the benches under those trees on the rampart. There is a gentleman with a scarlet cloak and white feather; see how earnestly he talks to the young lady in the hoop fardingale; he looks into her eyes, as if he would there read what passes in her heart, but her eyes are cast down, and timidly she plays with her fan, and now with the fringe of her stomacher; she is pleased and confused—he earnest and impassioned; 'tis the Baron Karl, of the pistoliers, and the burgomaster's daughter—they are lovers! Nearer, look at that cavalier in the barrelled doublet and calfskin boots, who sits beside a lady in a coif and veil. He looks superbly vacant at the still waters of the canal, while the lady gazes quite as listlessly down the vista of the opposite street. Ay de mi! they are married! 'Tis a conjugal tête-à-tête—a married pair seriously employed! Dost think that I could ever come to that, and live? Santos, no! Give me plenty of admirers, but never a husband, until I am as old as dame Krumpel. See yonder dames—one in a red and the other in an orange fardingale. They are an old baroness and a countess—yet they are the most miserable women in the world. One has had two husbands without any children—the other has two children and no husband."
"How——"
"He was killed at Lütter," said the señora, with a burst of laughter.
I was somewhat silenced. I knew not whether to be perplexed or pleased by her curious morality and strange flow of spirits; but the warnings of Ian came to my memory.
"Believe me, señor, I am very happy as I am; marriage is only a traffic in which two people try to cheat each other, as sharpers would with cogged dice.
I saw that nothing would be made of this little one by gravity, and resolved to encounter her with some of that banter which one picks up so readily at camp and college, when she resumed—