Part 4 (2/2)
It was not the coer, but a natural, unstrained kindness, such as they ht be expected to show to a beloved brother or son who had gone out fro and was now returned
By and by the girl's father came in, and I was extremely surprised to find him a small, wrinkled, dark speci plainly enough that he had inal Charrua blood in his veins This upset irl's fair skin and blue eyes; the little dark man was, however, quite as sweet-tempered as the others, for he came in, sat down, and joined in the conversation, just as if I had been one of the family whoood people on simple pastoralwar of Whites and Reds, and the unspeakable cruelties of the ten years'
siege--were quite forgotten I wished that I had been born alishman, overburdened with the ar, like Atlas, with the weight of a kingdom on which the sun never sets on his shoulders
By and by this good man, whose real name I never discovered, for his wife si critically at his pretty girl, rehter--it is not a Saint's day?”
His daughter indeed! I hter of the evening star than of such a man But his words were unreasonable, to say the least of it; for the sweet child, whose nas on, while her dress--very clean, certainly--was a cotton print so faded that the pattern was quite undistinguishable The only pretence of finery of any description was a narrow bit of blue ribbon tied about her lily-white neck And yet, had she been wearing richest silks and costliest gems, she could not have blushed and s Uncle Ansel, _papita_,” she replied
”Leave the child, Batata,” said the mother ”You knohat a craze she has for Anselmo: when he comes she is always prepared to receive him like a queen”
This was really almost too much for me, and I was powerfully tempted to jump up and embrace the whole family on the spot Hoas this primitive simplicity of mind! Here, doubtless, was the one spot on the wide earth where the golden age still lingered, appearing like the last bea sos are in shadow Ah, why had fate led me into this sweet Arcadia, since I o back to the dull world of toil and strife
That vain low strife Whichfor wealth and power, The passions and the cares that wither life And waste its little hour?
Had it not been for the thought of Paquita waiting for ood friend Sweet Potato, and good friends all, letyour siet that great croorld where allto conquer Nature and death and to win fortune; until, having wasted their miserable lives in their vain endeavours, they drop down and the earth is shovelled over them!”
Shortly after sunset the expected Anselht with his relations, and scarcely had he got down froarita was at his side to ask the avuncular blessing, at the saave his blessing, touching her golden hair; then she lifted her face bright with new happiness
Anselood features, his hair and moustache intensely black He wore costly clothes, while his whip-handle, the sheath of his long knife, and other things about him were of massive silver Of silver also were his heavy spurs, the pommel of his saddle, his stirrups, and the headstall of his bridle He was a great talker; never, in fact, in the whole course of my varied experience have I encountered anyone who could pour out such an incessant streaether in the social kitchen, sipping _ little part in the conversation, which was all about horses, scarcely even listening to what the others were saying Reclining against the wall, I occupied arita, which in her happy excitement had becoreat love for the beautiful: sunsets, wild flowers, especially verbenas, so prettily calledthe rainbow spanning the vast glooreen and violet arch, when the storm-cloud passes eastward over the wet sun-flushed earth All these things have a singular fascination for my soul But beauty when it presents itself in the hunetic power drawingthat is not love, for how can alike that towards anyone except his wife? No, it is not love, but a sacred ethereal kind of affection, reserance of violets reseth, soarita, to h not without first once
After her departure fro- forth fresh as ever, I lit a cigar and prepared to listen
CHAPTER VIII
When I began to listen, it was a surprise to find that the subject of conversation was no longer the favourite one of horse-flesh, which had held undisputed sway the whole evening Uncle Ansele for which he confessed to a special liking
”Gin is, without doubt,” said he, ”the flower of all strong drinks I have always maintained that it is incomparable And for this reason I always keep a little of it in the house in a stone bottle; for, when I have taken , and, after it, one or two or three or four sips of gin, I saddleat peace with the whole world
”Well, sirs, it happened that on the in left in the bottle; for, though I could not see how lass, I judged fro it out In order to re home some withmy horse, I rode out towards the side on which the sun sets, little expecting that anything unusual was going to happen to me that day But thus it often is; for no man, however learned he may be and able to read the al forth”
Anselo to bed to dreaarita; but politeness forbade, and I was also so had happened to him on that very eventful day