As she said this they reached the parlor on the ground floor, which was generally used as a reception-room, and Dona Perfecta presented her daughter to Pepe.

Rosario was a girl of delicate and fragile appearance, that revealed a tendency to pensive melancholy.  In her delicate and pure countenance there was something of the soft, pearly pallor which most novelists attribute to their heroines, and without which sentimental varnish it appears that no Enriquieta or Julia can be interesting.  But what chiefly distinguished Rosario was that her face expressed so much sweetness and modesty that the absence of the perfections it lacked was not observed.  This is not to say that she was plain; but, on the other hand, it is true that it would be an exaggeration to call her beautiful in the strictest meaning of the word.  The real beauty of Dona Perfecta’s daughter consisted in a species of transparency, different from that of pearl, alabaster, marble, or any of the other substances used in descriptions of the human countenance; a species of transparency through which the inmost depths of her soul were clearly visible; depths not cavernous and gloomy, like those of the sea, but like those of a clear and placid river.  But the material was wanting there for a complete personality.  The channel was wanting, the banks were wanting.  The vast wealth of her spirit overflowed, threatening to wash away the narrow borders.  When her cousin saluted her she blushed crimson, and uttered only a few unintelligible words.

“You must be fainting with hunger,” said Dona Perfecta to her nephew.  “You shall have your breakfast at once.”

“With your permission,” responded the traveller, “I will first go and get rid of the dust of the journey.”

“That is a sensible idea,” said the senora.  “Rosario, take your cousin to the room that we have prepared for him.  Don’t delay, nephew.  I am going to give the necessary orders.”

Rosario took her cousin to a handsome apartment situated on the ground floor.  The moment he entered it Pepe recognized in all the details of the room the diligent and loving hand of a woman.  All was arranged with perfect taste, and the purity and freshness of everything in this charming nest invited to repose.  The guest observed minute details that made him smile.

“Here is the bell,” said Rosario, taking in her hand the bell-rope, the tassel of which hung over the head of the bed.  “All you have to do is to stretch out your hand.  The writing-table is placed so that you will have the light from the left.  See, in this basket you can throw the waste papers.  Do you smoke?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” responded Pepe Rey.

“Well, then, you can throw the ends of your cigars here,” she said, touching with the tip of her shoe a utensil of gilt-brass filled with sand.  “There is nothing uglier than to see the floor covered with cigar-ends.  Here is the washstand.  For your clothes you have a wardrobe and a bureau.  I think this is a bad place for the watch-case; it would be better beside the bed.  If the light annoys you, all you have to do is to lower the shade with this cord; see, this way.”