At last the evening came to an end, as every thing does in this world.  The dean retired, leaving the house, as it seemed, empty, and very soon there remained of the alcalde’s wife only an echo, like the buzz which remains in the air after a storm has passed away.  The judge also deprived the company of his presence, and at last Don Inocencio gave his nephew the signal for departure.

“Come, boy, come; for it is late,” he said, smiling.  “How you have tormented poor Rosarito, has he not, child?  Home, you rogue, home, without delay.”

“It is time to go to bed,” said Dona Perfecta.

“Time to go to work,” responded the little lawyer.

“I am always telling him that he ought to get through with his business in the day-time, but he will not mind me.”

“There is so much, so very much business to be got through.”

“No, say rather, that confounded work which you have undertaken.  He does not wish to say it, Senor Don Jose, but the truth is that he is writing a book on ‘The Influence of Woman in Christian Society,’ and, in addition to that, ’A Glance at the Catholic Movement in’—­somewhere or other.  What do you know about glances or influences?  But these youths of the present day have audacity enough for any thing.  Oh, what boys!  Well, let us go home.  Good-night, Senora Dona Perfecta—­good-night, Senor Don Jose—­Rosarito.”

“I will wait for Senor Don Cayetano,” said Jacinto, “to ask him to give me the Augusto Nicolas.”

“Always carrying books.  Why, sometimes you come into the house laden like a donkey.  Very well, then, let us wait.”

“Senor Don Jacinto does not write hastily,” said Pepe Rey; “he prepares himself well for his work, so that his books may be treasures of learning.”

“But that boy will injure his brain,” objected Dona Perfecta.  “For Heaven’s sake be careful!  I would set a limit to his reading.”

“Since we are going to wait,” said the little doctor, in a tone of insufferable conceit, “I will take with me also the third volume of Concilios.  What do you think, uncle?”

“Take that, of course.  It would never do to leave that behind you.”

Fortunately Senor Don Cayetano (who generally spent his evenings at the house of Don Lorenzo Ruiz) soon arrived, and the books being received, uncle and nephew left the house.

Rey read in his cousin’s sad countenance a keen desire to speak to him.  He approached her while Dona Perfecta and Don Cayetano were discussing some domestic matter apart.

“You have offended mamma,” said Rosarito.

Her features expressed something like terror.

“It is true,” responded the young man; “I have offended your mamma—­I have offended you.”

“No, not me.  I already imagined that the Infant Jesus ought not to wear trousers.”

“But I hope that you will both forgive me.  Your mamma was so kind to me a little while ago.”