"Why do you address me so formally?[2] Is that the way we ought to do?"

"Well, then, _thou_ art more heated than I.... Fan thyself."

At ten o'clock all departed, taking leave of the lovers, with smiles
more or less malicious.

"Good night, Maximina; sleep well."--"Your last night of maidenhood,
dear! Beware! Your last night!" said one ancient matron, the mother of
at least eleven sons.

Maximina smiled, abashed.

"_Adios! adios!..._ How it will pain us to have you leave us!"

And a few of the young maidens kissed her again and again, with great
manifestations of love.

"Girl, don't you forget that this is your last night of maidenhood!
Ponder on it! It is a solemn thing!" said the matron once more.

Again Maximina smiled.

Then the old woman frowned, and whispered to the one who was standing
next her:--

"That child imagines that she is going on a pilgrimage! _Ay Dios!_ It is
evident that she has not a grain of feeling. Marriage is a very serious
affair ... very serious." And until she reached her own house she did
not cease discoursing long and learnedly on the seriousness of this tie.

Our lovers were left with Dona Rosalia and Don Valentin; the children
had already gone to bed,--the youngest, Adolfo, whom his mother had been
obliged to take to his room by main force and the promise to wake him on
the next day in time to be present at the ceremony. Don Valentin
likewise bade them good night and went to his room. Miguel and Maximina
sat down on two low chairs, and began to whisper, while Dona Rosalia,
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