Elvira's eyes followed her brother. Her heart was torn with grief; grief all the more agonized and profound for being repressed. She considered that a complaint from her would be like an indiscreet cry of alarm at an inevitable misfortune.
"Aunt," said Angel, "nothing can keep Melampo when father goes."
"He does what he ought, like the good dog he is," answered Elvira.
"And why is he called Melampo?" the child continued, with that zeal for asking questions which older people ridicule, instead of respecting and encouraging.
"He is called so," answered Elvira, "because Melampo is the name of one of the dogs that went to Bethlehem with the shepherds to see the child Jesus. There were three of them, Melampo, Cubilon, and Tobina, and the dogs that bear these names never go mad."
"Aunt," said Angela, running after a little bird, "I can't catch this swallow."
"That is not a swallow. Swallows do not come till spring, and these you must never catch nor molest."
"Why not, aunt?"
"Because they are friends to man, they confide in him and make their nests under his eaves. They are the birds that pulled the thorns out of the Saviour's crown when he hung upon the cross."
At this moment Angel fell and began to cry. Rita rushed impetuously out of her room and snatched him up, exclaiming: