s, was conscious,
however, of the necessity of saying something, and, looking at her
mother, she cried:

"Ah! I forgot to give the parrot his dinner."

"Don't mind that now. But why do you stay in here? Take your cousin for
a walk in the garden."

Dona Perfecta smiled with maternal kindness at her nephew, as she
pointed toward the leafy avenue which was visible through the glass
door.

"Let us go there," said Pepe, rising.

Rosarito darted, like a bird released from its cage, toward the glass
door.

"Pepe, who knows so much and who must understand all about trees," said
Dona Perfecta, "will teach you how to graft. Let us see what he thinks
of those young pear-trees that they are going to transplant."

"Come, come!" called Rosarito to her cousin impatiently from the garden.

Both disappeared among the foliage. Dona Perfecta watched them until
they were out of sight and then busied herself with the parrot. As she
changed its food she said to herself with a contemplative air:

"How different he is! He has not even given a caress to the poor bird."

Then, thinking it possible that she had been overheard by her
brother-in-law, she said aloud:

"Cayetano, what do you think of my nephew? Cayetano!"

A low grunt gave evidence that the antiquary was returning to the
consciousness of this miserable world.

"Cayetano!"

"Just so, just so!" murmured the scientist in a sleepy voice. "That
young gentleman will maintain, as every one does, that the statues
of Mundogrande belong to the first Phoenician immigration. But I will
convince him--"

"But, Cayetano!"

"But, Perfecta! There! Now you will insist upon it again that I have
been asleep."

"No, indeed; how could I insist upon any thing so absurd! But you
haven't told me what you think about that young man."

Don Cayetano placed the palm of his hand before his mouth to conceal a
yawn; then he and Dona Perfecta entered upon a long conversation. Those
who have transmitted to us the necessary data for a compilation of
this history omit this dialogue, no doubt because it was entirely
confidential. As for what the engineer and Rosarito said in the garden
that afternoon, it is evident that it was not worthy of mention.

On the afternoon of the following day, however, events took place which,
being of the gravest importance, ought not to be passed over in silence.
Late in the afternoon the two cousins found themselves alone, after
rambling through different parts o