Their father and the governor were both startled, for they had quite forgotten the children in the interests at stake. Now the governor smiled encouragingly. “Suppose you tell me about Mariquita and what you have done at home during these months of warfare,” he said quite kindly.
Thus encouraged, the children did not lack for words and they told about their friend very enthusiastically. When they had finished, the governor glanced at their father with an amused smile. “It certainly would be a shame to keep such a patriotic young woman waiting any longer for her soldier-lover,” he said. “After all,” he added, “although it is true that Don Francisco’s offence is not a light one, there are circumstances which explain the case. His war-record is such a good one that
I think we may safely pardon him.” As he spoke, he reached for pen and paper, and in a few moments had signed and sealed an official-looking document which he handed to Señor Vasquez. The children thanked him very politely, but they could hardly restrain their impatience until they found themselves in the street again.
When their father told them that it was really true and that the paper was indeed Don Francisco’s pardon, Anitia danced for very happiness.
“But you must not tell Mariquita,” cautioned their father. “We will let her lover tell the good news, himself.” So the children promised to keep the secret carefully and not spoil the surprise he had in store for her.
They stopped on the way home to buy some great bunches of scarlet geranium and masses of heliotrope for their mother, for in the warm climate of southern Spain these blossoms answer the purpose of Christmas holly and mistletoe. They bought Mariquita a flagon of cologne for Anitia remembered that she was very fond of the fragrant toilet-water, smelling of orange-blossoms which is manufactured in their own city. But, as Antonio said quite truly, it didn’t make much difference what they carried her when her best gift was still in store for her.
At last they were at home again and the children scampered through the delicately wrought iron gates which separated their home from the street, across the marble patio, or courtyard with its silvery fountain in the centre, up the stairs to the winter living-rooms. For, in Seville, the people live up-stairs in the winter and move down-stairs in the summer, when they wish to be cooler.
The children were left alone with Mariquita while their father and mother talked together in another room. They knew that Señor Vasquez was telling his wife about their adventures, and they had hard work to keep the good news from Mariquita when she questioned them about their walk. She thanked them for the cologne and listened to their account of buying presents for the sick soldiers, but although she smiled bravely, they could see that she was unhappy, and tender-hearted little Anitia pitied her so genuinely that she had to run away lest she should tell the great secret.