"I am full of gratitude to hear you say so, señora; but there is no remedy."
"Señor," said she, smiling, "para todo hay remedio sino para la muerte."
"True, there is a remedy for everything but death, it is a good old Spanish proverb," said I; "but is not absence from those we love but a living death? so when I am far from Seville I shall have but the memory of one most beautiful face, and one bright happy night."
"Take this rose," said she, disengaging one from her bouquet; "it will be a memento, though a small one."
"Thanks, señora; but the rose will wither and fade."
"So will the memory of the beautiful face and the one happy night," said she, with a winning smile.
"Never, never Paulina—you are so charming—so gentle and so good, that——"
"Hush, Dios Mio! the people are observing us, and—but ave Maria purissima! what is the matter with my mother?"
During this brief conversation, the servant Pedrillo had delivered a note to Donna Dominga, who, on hurriedly glancing at its contents, uttered a faint cry and fell upon the sofa, where all the ladies crowded in an excited manner round her. Don Joaquim snatched up the letter and read it with flaming eyes.
"What, in Heaven's name, is the matter?" I asked, pressing forward.