At the same time she made a little gesture with outspread palms, and folded her white hands complacently on her lap as if to indicate that society was not left comfortless--that she was still there. From her inferiors she looked for the utmost deference. Her white hands had never done an hour's work. She was ignorant and idle; but she was a lady and a Sarrion.

Cousin Peligros lived in a little apartment in Madrid, which she fondly imagined to be the hub of the social universe.

"They all come," she said, "to consult the Senorita de Sarrion upon points of etiquette."

And she patted the air condescendingly with her left hand. There are some people who seem to be created by a far-seeing Providence as a solemn warning.

"Cousin Peligros," said Juanita one day, after listening respectfully to a lecture on the care of the hands, "lives in a little field of her own."

"Like a scarecrow," added Marcos, the taciturn.

And this was the lady who awaited them at the Palacio Sarrion. She had been summoned from Madrid by Sarrion, who paid the expenses of the journey; no small item, by the way. For Cousin Peligros, like many people who live at the expense of others, sought to mitigate the bitterness of the bread of charity by spreading it very thickly with other people's b.u.t.ter.

She did not come down to the door to meet them when the carriage clattered over the cobble-stones of the echoing patio.

Such a proceeding might have lowered her dignity in the eyes of the servants, who, to do them justice, saw right through Cousin Peligros into the vacuum that lay behind her. She sat in state in the great drawing-room with her hands folded on her lap and placidly arranged her proposed mode of greeting the newcomers. She had been informed that Sarrion had found it necessary to take Juanita de Mogente away from the convent school and to a.s.sume the cares of that guardianship which had always been an understood obligation mutually binding between himself and Francisco de Mogente.

Cousin Peligros was therefore keenly alive to the fact, that Juanita required at this critical moment of her life a good and abiding example.

Hers also was the blessed knowledge that no one in all Spain was better fitted to offer such an example than the Senorita Peligros de Sarrion.

She therefore sat in her best black silk dress in an att.i.tude subtly combining, with a kind tolerance for all who were so unfortunate as not to be Sarrions, a complacent determination to do her duty.

It is to be regretted that she was for a time left sitting thus, for Perro was in the hall, and his greeting of Juanita had to be acknowledged with several violent hugs, which resulted in Juanita's mantilla getting mixed up with Perro's collar. Then there were the pictures and the armour to be inspected on the stairs. For Juanita had never seen the palace with its shutters open.

"Are they all Sarrions?" she exclaimed. "Oh mi alma! What a fierce company. That old gentleman with a spike on top of his hat is a crusader I suppose. And there is a helmet hanging on the wall beneath the portrait, with a great dent in it. But I expect he hit him back again.

Don't you think so, Uncle Ramon, if he was a Sarrion?"

"I dare say he did," answered the Count.

"I wish I was a Sarrion," said Juanita, looking up at the armour with a light in her eyes.

"You are one," replied Sarrion, gravely.

She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder at him. Marcos was some way behind, and took no part in the conversation.

"So I am," she said. "I forgot."

And with a little sigh, as of a realised responsibility, she continued her way up the wide stairs. The sight of Cousin Peligros, upright on a chair, dispelled Juanita's momentary gravity, however.

"Oh, Cousin Peligros," she cried, running to her and taking both her hands. "Just think! I have left school. No more punishments--no more grammar--no more arithmetic!"

Cousin Peligros had risen and endeavoured to maintain that dignity which she felt to be so beneficial an example to the world. But Juanita emphasised each item of her late education with a jerk which gradually deranged Cousin Peligros' prim mantilla. Then she danced her round an impalpable mulberry bush until the poor lady was breathless.

"No more Primes at six o'clock in the morning," concluded Juanita, suddenly allowing Cousin Peligros to sit again. "Do you ever go to Primes at six o'clock in the morning, Cousin Peligros?"

"No," was the grave answer. "Such things are not expected of ladies."

"How thoughtful of Heaven!" exclaimed Juanita, with a light laugh. "Then I do not mind being grownup--and putting up my hair--if you will lend me two hairpins."

She fell on Cousin Peligros' mantilla and extracted two hairpins from it despite the resistance of the soft white hands. Then she twisted up the heavy plait that hung to her waist, threw back her mantilla and stood laughing before the old lady.

"There--I am grown-up! I am more grown-up than you, you know; for I am..."

She broke off, and turning to Sarrion, asked,

"Does she know ... does she know the joke?"

"No," said Sarrion.

"We are married," she said, standing squarely in front of Cousin Peligros.

"Married ..." echoed the disciple of etiquette, faintly. "Married--to whom?"

"Marcos and I."

But Cousin Peligros only gasped and covered her face with her hands.

Marcos came into the room at this moment and scarcely looked at Cousin Peligros. Those white hands played so large a part in her small daily life that they were always in evidence, and it did not seem out of place that they should cover her foolish face.

"I found all your clothes ready packed at the school," he said, addressing Juanita. "Sor Teresa brought them with her from Pampeluna. You will find them in your room."

"Oh ..." groaned Cousin Peligros.

"What is it?" inquired Marcos practically. "What is the matter with her?"

"She has just been told that we are married," explained Juanita, airily.

"And I think you shocked her by mentioning my clothes. You shouldn't do it, Marcos."

And she went and stood by Cousin Peligros with her hand upon her shoulder as if to protect her. She shook her head gravely at Marcos.

Cousin Peligros rose rigidly and walked towards the door.

"I will go," she said. "I will see that your room is in order. I have never before been made an object of ridicule in a gentleman's house."

"But we may surely laugh and be happy in a gentleman's house, may we not?" cried Juanita, running after her, and throwing one arm round her rather unbending and capacious waist. "You are an old dear, and you must not be so solemn about it. Marcos and I are only married for fun, you know."

And the door closed behind them, shutting off Juanita's voluble explanations.

"You see," said Sarrion, after a pause. "She is happy enough."

"Now," answered Marcos. "But she may find out some day that she is not."

Juanita came back before long and found Sarrion alone.

"Where is Marcos?" she asked.

"He is taking a siesta," answered Sarrion.

"Like a poor man."