The writer would respectfully have it understood that he is in no way responsible for this astounding free and easy marriage; far be it from him so to dispose of brides. But he opines that ’tis a way they have in Spain.
Upon that notarial announcement, the don was faint with joy, and the next moment he was nearly faint with surprise.
For hardly was the contract completed, hardly had the astounding notarial intimation been given, than the bride throws aside her veil, and with it her meek look. Let it not, however, he said she assumed a bold look—say rather, an easy, cool, pleasant countenance.
The don advanced towards the lady to give her a marital embrace, but she gently pushed him back. “Softly pray; calm your ardor; you should first entreat permission.”
“And I do!”—
“And I do not permit.”
The don fell plump upon his chair, and looked unmeaningly after the notary, who was quietly withdrawing.
“Ah, ah, oh,” said the youth Ernesto, as he saw the blank expression on his uncle’s face.
“Sir Nephew, how dare you laugh. Quit this house. Begone!”
“Begone, don, fie!” said the new wife contemptuously. “What rudeness! Pray remain, sir.” Then turning rapidly to the don, she said, “I must teach you better manners.”