as entirely unfurnished, since
Miguel wished to take his own time and consult his own taste in
selecting the furniture for it. But in the dressing-room there was no
fireplace, while here there was one. Juana kindled the fire and lighted
a couple of candles. Miguel soon blew them out, preferring to let the
fire alone light them. He wanted to go and get a couple of easy-chairs
from the parlor, but Maximina said:--

"Get one for yourself, and not for me.... You will see I am going to sit
down on the floor, for I like it better."

No sooner said than done; she sat down gracefully on the carpeted floor.

Her husband looked at her and smiled.

"Well, then; I am not going to get the chairs at all; I don't want to do
otherwise than you do."

And he sat down by her side in front of the fireplace, the flames of
which lighted up their smiling faces. The husband took his wife's hands,
those plump hands, hardened but not injured by work, and passionately
kissed them again and again. The wife did not want to be less
affectionate than her husband, and after a little hesitation she took
one of his and raised it to her lips. This little touch of innocence
delighted Miguel, and he laughed.

"What makes you laugh?" asked the girl, looking at him in surprise.

"Nothing ... pleasure!"

"No; you laughed in a naughty way.... What were you laughing at?"

"Nothing, I tell you.... It's all your imagination."

"But I tell you that you were laughing at me! Have I done anything
amiss?"

"What could you have done, _tonta_? I laughed because it is not
customary for ladies to kiss the hands of gentlemen!"

"But don't you see.... I am not a lady! and you are my husband!"

"You are right, ..." said he, kissing her; ... "you are right in all
that you say. Always do what your heart prompts you to do, as just now,
and you need not fear of making any mistake."

The bluish flames danced gayly over the top of the coals, rising and
disappearing every instant, as though they were listening to the words
spoken by the young couple, and then hurrying off to report them to some
gnome of the fire.

From time to time a bit of burning cinder would break off from the
glowing mass, fall through the grate, and come rolling down at their
feet. Then Maximina would wait till it had cooled a little, pick it up
in her fingers, and toss it into the coal-hod. The only sound to be
heard was the heavy rumble of carriages driving to the theatre. The
conversation