and the promise to wake him on the next day in time to be present at the ceremony. Don Valentín likewise bade them good night and went to his room. Miguel and Maximina sat down on two low chairs, and began to whisper, while Doña Rosalía, still in bad humor, decided to knit until it should seem good to her to put an end to the session, which should be within a very few minutes.

Miguel noticed that Maximina was absent-minded and somewhat nervous.

"What is the matter?... I can see by thy face that something troubles thee.... Art thou not content to be my wife?"

"Oh, yes! There is nothing the matter."

"Then, why this absent-mindedness?"

She hung her head and did not answer. Miguel insisted upon knowing:—

"Come, tell me, what are you thinking about?"

"I want to ask a favor of you, ..." she whispered timidly.

"Only one? I would like you to ask me five hundred, and that I might grant them!"

"If I might ... if you would let me be married in one of my own dresses...."

The young man remained for a moment lost in amazement: then he asked sadly:—

"Don't you wish to be married in the dress that I brought you?"

"It would be very mortifying to me!"

"Besides, it is the fashion to be married in a white dress; especially for maidens like you!"

"Here it is not the fashion.... I should be mortified to death!"

Miguel tried to persuade her, but in vain. After exhausting his arguments, which were not very varied, he was anxious to come to a settlement of the difficulty. But Doña Rosalía had noticed something, and lifting her head, she asked:—

"What does this mean? You were not quarrelling, I hope?"

"Nothing, Doña Rosalía; Maximina does not wish to be married in the white dress,—because it would mortify her."

These words instantly put the tobacconist's wife into a storm of fury:—

"And you take any notice of this blockhead's notions? How does she know what she wants, or what she does not want? Did you ever see the like?... Such a splendid dress as you have brought her too!... It must have cost a fortune!... And what does she want done with this dress?..."

The brigadier's son, understanding what was passing through his sweetheart's mind, slyly took her hand, and gave it a hearty pressure. Maximina, who was confused and pained, recovered her courage.

"There is no reason to be disturbed, Doña Rosalía, for the matter is not worth it. If Maximina does not wish to be married in white, it is simply because it is not the fashion here. The fault was on my side in having brought the dress without consulting her first. As to what is to be done with it, Maximina has given me an idea; she desires that it be presented to the Virgin of the Church of St. Peter."

The girl, who had said nothing of the sort, pressed his hand to show her gratitude. Doña Rosalía was ambitious of having her niece's dress make a sensation in the village; consequently she still insisted that such a thing should not be done. Nevertheless, Miguel stood firm, taking his maiden's part, and arguing that she was right. Finally Doña Rosalía, unable to hide her indignation, swept out of the room, leaving them alone.

Miguel shrugged his shoulders, and said to the girl, who was greatly disturbed:—

"Don't be worried, dearie. You are in all good rights my wife, and you are under no obligation to obey any one else."

Maximina gave him a tender look of gratitude. And feeling that it was not proper for them to be absolutely alone, she arose, intimating that she wished to go to bed.

It was necessary for them to be up bright and early the next morning. The hour for the ceremony was fixed at half-past five. Miguel also arose, although unwillingly, and his betrothed went to get him a candle from the kitchen. As she was on the point of handing it to him, he said in a jesting tone:—

"Art thou quite sure that we are to be married to-morrow?"

Maximina looked at him with wide-open eyes.

"You had better beware! for there is even now time for me to change my mind. Who knows but what I may make my escape this night, and when morning comes half the people may be absent from the wedding?"

Maximina forced herself to smile. Miguel, who noticed how seriously she took his words, came to her relief, saying:—

"What an innocent little puss you are! Could it be possible that I would throw away my happiness! When a man is lucky enough to find it in this world, he must cling fast hold of it. Within a few hours nothing can separate us. Adiós—my wife!"

The young man uttered these words as he started up stairs. From the top of the stairway he smiled down on the girl, who had stopped motionless at the parlor door, still evidently a little disturbed by the jest that he had made.

"Till to-morrow! isn't it so?"

Maximina nodded her head.

That night was not one of sleeplessness for Miguel, as the night before a man's marriage, they say, is apt to be. Not a single sad foreboding passed through his mind; no fear, no impetuous eagerness; his determination was so firm and rational, it was so vigorously supported by his intellect and his heart, that there was no room for that unhealthy agitation and dread which attack us at the moment of adopting some weighty resolution. So far as Maximina was concerned, he was sure of being happy. So far as he himself was concerned, he would do his best to be happy. Once and forever dispossessed of the vainglorious desire of "making a brilliant marriage," he was convinced that no woman was better suited to him than this one. Never once did the fever of a hot and violent passion cause him any discomfort. The love that he felt was intense but calm; neither wholly spiritual, nor wholly material, but a union of both. As soon as he reached his room, he spent a few moments thinking about his betrothed, and then finding himself overpowered by drowsiness, he blew out his light and fell into deep sleep.

Before it was five o'clock, the chamber-maid's voice woke him. It was still pitch dark, and would be so for some time. He lighted the candle, and dressed himself carefully. He was quick about it, though his hands trembled a little. As the solemn moment approached, he could not entirely conquer his nervous and impressionable nature.

When he went down into the parlor, quite an assembly was already gathered; not only those who had been there the evening before, but others besides. All were dressed in their most brilliant attire. Doña Rosalía, who was to be the madrina, wore a dress of black merino, and was adorned with a few jewels of small value. Don Valentín, the padrino, had pulled out from the bottom of the trunk the dress-coat in which he had been painted when he became a ship's mate; it was a coat of ample circumference, with a narrow collar and very short sleeves: the ex-captain of the Rápido wore it with the same grace and dexterity as he did his best shirt. In the starched and crimped bosom shone two large amethysts which he had bought in 1842 in Manilla; over his vest and around his neck hung his watch-chain; the watch was gold and had a seal adorned with opals. But it was in his feet that Don Valentín took the greatest pride: his wife had always boasted (because he was wholly incapable of boasting about anything) that there were no others in the village so short and well-turned; wherefore, the old sailor, in honor of this solemn occasion, felt called upon to give such a shine to his boots that they equalled "the moons of Venice"; but solely for the purpose of affording the companion of his life a new and pure delight.

The company missed several damsels, but the report went round that they were engaged in helping dress the bride. It was not long before she made her appearance, in a modest but elegant dark blue woollen dress trimmed with black velvet; she also wore the bridegroom's costly jewels,