“Ay! what a Sister!—always so full of spirit,” exclaimed the Mother Superior.
“Yes, Mother, I have been married for a month and three days to this fine young man whom you see. He has only one defect,” she added, growing grave, “and that is that he is a Gallegan!... But you would not think it, would you?”
“What a Sister!” again exclaimed some of the nuns. “How witty she is!—who would have said that she was married! Something has happened to her!”
“What! Don’t you believe me?”
The Sisters still laughed, giving me keen and mysterious glances.
“Well, then, this very instant I will prove it to you!” exclaimed my wife with a sudden impulse. And at the same time she threw her arms around my neck and began to give me some ringing kisses on the cheek, saying,—
“Rico mio! Isn’t it true that you are my husband? Isn’t it true that I am your little wife? Isn’t it true that we are married? Tell me, sweetheart! Tell me, my own life!”
While I, quite abashed, was trying to escape from her caresses, I heard exclamations of reproof, and saw that the nuns were flying in fright towards the portal. One of them, more intrepid, seized the cord of the curtain and pulled it with all her force. The curtain, as it shut together, likewise sent up a squeak of scandalised amazement.
I heard hurried steps and a sound of voices. Then nothing; it had grown silent.
My wife, laughing merrily and blushing at the same time, seized my hand and drew me out. We passed through the melancholy corridors in this way, ran down the stairs, passed through the great passageway, and when we found ourselves in the street I said to her, half vexed, “Child, how crazy you were! What got into you, to....”