Chapter XI
I made efforts to be jovial for the rest of the day. At the table I spoke enthusiastically about the beautiful women of Bogotá, and intentionally praised P***'s graces and wit. My father was pleased to hear me: Eloísa would have wanted the after-dinner conversation to last into the night. Maria was silent; but it seemed to me that her cheeks sometimes grew pale, and that their primitive colour had not returned to them, like that of the roses which during the night have adorned a feast.
Towards the latter part of the conversation, Mary had pretended to play with the hair of John, my three-year-old brother whom she spoiled. She put up with it to the end; but as soon as I got to my feet, she went with the child into the garden.
All the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening it was necessary to help my father with his desk work.
At eight o'clock, after the women had said their usual prayers, we were called into the dining room. As we sat down to table, I was surprised to see one of the lilies on Mary's head. There was such an air of noble, innocent, sweet resignation in her beautiful face that, as if magnetised by something unknown to me in her until then, I could not help looking at her.
Loving, laughing girl, as pure and seductive a woman as those I had dreamed of, so I knew her; but resigned to my disdain, she was new to me. Divinised by resignation, I felt unworthy to fix a glance on her brow.
I answered wrongly to some questions that were put to me about Joseph and his family. My father could not conceal my embarrassment; and turning to Mary, he said with a smile:
–Beautiful lily in your hair: I have not seen such in the garden.
Maria, trying to conceal her bewilderment, replied in an almost imperceptible voice:
–There are only lilies of this kind in the mountains.
I caught at that moment a kindly smile on Emma's lips.
–And who sent them? -asked my father.
Mary's confusion was already noticeable. I looked at her; and she must have found something new and encouraging in my eyes, for she answered with a firmer accent:
–Ephraim threw some into the garden; and it seemed to us that, being so rare, it was a pity they should be lost: this is one of them.
–Mary," said I, "if I had known that these flowers were so dear, I should have kept them for you; but I have found them less beautiful than those which are daily placed in the vase on my table.
She understood the cause of my resentment, and a glance of hers told me so plainly, that I feared the palpitations of my heart might be heard.
That evening, just as the family was leaving the salon, Maria happened to be sitting near me. After hesitating for a long time, I finally said to her in a voice that betrayed my emotion: "Maria, they were for you, but I couldn't find yours".
She stammered some apology when, tripping over my hand on the sofa, I held hers by a movement beyond my control. She stopped talking. Her eyes looked at me in astonishment and fled from mine. He ran his free hand anxiously across his forehead, and leaned his head on it, sinking his bare arm into the immediate cushion. At last, making an effort to undo that double bond of matter and soul which at such a moment united us, she rose to her feet; and as if concluding a commenced reflection, she said to me so quietly that I could scarcely hear her, "Then … I will pick the prettiest flowers every day," and disappeared.
