Rita and Perico were happy, because Perico, with his loving heart, his sweet temper, and his conciliatory character, made the happiness of both. A year after their marriage, Rita had given birth to twins. On that occasion, she was at death's door, and owed her life to the tender care of her husband and his family. She remained for a long time feeble and ailing, but at the moment in which we take up the thread of our story, she was entirely restored, and the roses of youth and health bloomed more brightly than ever upon her countenance.
When they were reunited that evening, Maria exclaimed: "Blessed mother, what a fearful storm we had last night! I was so frightened that my very bed shook with me! I recalled all my sins and confessed them to God. I prayed so much that I think I must have awakened all the saints: and I prayed loud, for I have always heard say that the lightning loses its power from where the voice of praying reaches. To the Moors! To the Moors! I said to the tempest, go to the Moors, that they may be converted and tremble at the wrath of God! Not until day-break, when I saw the rainbow, was I consoled: for it is the sign God gives to man that he will not punish the world with another flood. Why do men not fear when they see these warnings of God!"
"And why would you have them tremble, mother, for a thing which is natural," said Rita.
"Natural!" retorted Maria. "Perhaps you will also tell me that pestilence and war are natural! Do you know what the lightning is? For I heard a farmer say that it is a fragment of the air set on fire by the wrath of God. And where does not the air enter? And where is the place the wrath of God does not reach? And the thunder--the thunder, said a certain preacher, is the voice of God in his magnificence; and that God is to be feared above all when it thunders."
"The rain has been welcome, Mamma Maria, for the ground is thirsty," said Perico.
"The ground is always thirsty," observed Rita, "as thirsty as a sot."
"Father," said Angela, "hear what I sung to-day when I saw the pewets running to the pools," and the little girl began to sing:
"Open your windows, God of Christians!
Let the rain come down,
See the Blessed Virgin comes riding
From the inn of the little town;
Riding a horse of snowy whiteness.
Over the fields so brown,
Lighting all the fields with the brightness
Of the glory which shines around.
Blessing the fields, the fields of the king:
Ring from the big church, let all the bells ring!"
Angel, not wishing to let his sister, who was the brighter of the two, gain the palm--instantly said: "And I, father, sung: