"My son, she went for a little while to the feast with a neighbor--she must be here soon--she took it into her head--and as it was Christmas day--"
Without answering a word, Perico turned suddenly, and left the room. His mother rose quickly and followed, but did not overtake him.
"I tell you, Maria," said Pedro, "that Perico ought to beat her well. I would not say a word to stop him."
"Don't talk so, Pedro," answered Maria, "Perico is not the one to strike a woman. My poor little girl! we shall see. What harm is there in giving two or three hops? Old folks, Pedro, should not forget that they have been young."
At this moment Anna entered, trembling.
"Pedro," she said, "go to the feast!"
"I?" answered Pedro; "you are cool! I am out of all patience with that same feast. If Perico warms his wife's ribs, he will be well employed; she shall not dry her tears upon my pocket-handkerchief."
"Pedro, go to the feast!" said Anna again, but this time with such an accent of distress, that Pedro turned his head and sat staring at her.
Anna caught him by the arm, obliged him to rise, drew him aside, and spoke a few rapid words to him in a low voice.
The old man as he listened gave a half-suppressed cry, clasped his hands across his forehead, caught up his hat and hastily left the house.