Eight or ten days intervened between Segundo's visit to Las Vides and the return of Don Victoriano and his family to Vilamorta. Don Victoriano desired to drink the waters and at the same time to take measures to frustrate the dark machinations of Romero's partisans. His plan was a simple one—to offer Romero some other district, where he would not have to spend a penny, and thus removing the only rival who had any prestige in the country he would avoid the mortification of a defeat through Vilamorta. It was important to do this before October, the period at which the electoral contest was to take place. And while Genday, GarcÍa, the Alcalde and the other Combistas managed the negotiation, Don Victoriano, installed in Agonde's house, drank two or three glasses of the salubrious waters every morning, after which he read his correspondence, and in the afternoon, when the sultry heat invited to a siesta, he read or wrote in the cool parlor of the apothecary.

Segundo frequently accompanied him in these hours of retirement. They talked together like two friends, and the statesman, far from insisting on the ideas he had expressed in Las Vides, encouraged the poet, offering him to endeavor to obtain a position for him in Madrid which should enable him to carry out his plans.

"A position that will not take up much of your time, nor require much mental labor—I will see, I will see. I will be on the lookout for something."

Segundo observed unmistakable signs of improved health in the wrinkled face of the Minister. Don Victoriano was experiencing the transitory benefit which mineral waters produce at first, stimulating the organism only to waste it all the more rapidly, perhaps, afterward. Both digestion and circulation had become more active, and perspiration, even, entirely suppressed by the disease, had become re-established, dilating the pores with grateful warmth and communicating to the dry fibers the elasticity of healthy flesh. As a candle flares up brightly before going out, so Don Victoriano seemed to be recovering strength when in reality he was wasting away. Fancying health was returning to him, he breathed with delight the narrow atmosphere of party intrigues, taking pleasure in disputing his district inch by inch, in winning over adherents and receiving demonstrations of sympathy, and secretly flattered by the absurd proposal made by his parishioners to the parish priest of Vilamorta, that incense should be burned before him. In the evening he amused himself patriarchally among Agonde's visitors, listening to the comical stories told of the clique at DoÑa Eufrasia's shop and enjoying the ripple of excitement occasioned by the proximity of the feasts. Little by little the innocent tresillo table of Agonde had become transformed into something much more wicked. Now, instead of four persons being seated at it, there was only one, around whom, their eyes fixed on his hands, the others stood grouped. The banker's left hand grasped the cards tightly while with the ball of his thumb he pushed up the last card until first the spot could be descried, then the number, then the knob of a club, the point of a diamond, the blue tail of a horse, the turreted crown of a king, and other hands took up stakes or took money from the pocket and laid it down on the fateful pieces of cardboard with the words:

"On the seven! On the four! The ace is in sight!"

Through respect for Don Victoriano, Agonde refrained from dealing the cards when the latter was present, bridling with difficulty the only passion that could warm his blood and excite his placid nature, giving up his place to Jacinto Ruedas, a famous strolling gambler, known everywhere, who followed the scent of the gaming-table as others follow the scent of a banquet, a rare type, something between a swindler and a spy, who made low jests in a hoarse voice. The chroniclers do not state whether the civil authorities, that is to say, the judge of Vilamorta, made any attempt to interfere with the unlawful diversion in which the visitors to the pharmacy indulged, but it is an ascertained fact that, the judge having one leg shorter than the other, the pounding of his crutch on the sidewalk gave timely warning of his approach to the players. And as for the municipal authority, it is known to a certainty that one day, or to speak with more exactness, one night, he entered the apothecary's back shop like a bomb, holding in his hand money which he threw on a card, crying:

"Gentlemen, I am queen!"

"Be an ass, if you like!" responded Agonde, pushing him away with marked disrespect.

This year Don Victoriano's presence and the open hostilities waged between his partisans and those of Romero gave a martial character to the feasts. The Combists desired to render them more splendid and brilliant than ever before and the Romerists to render them a failure, as far as it was possible. In the main room of the townhall the monster balloon, which occupied the whole length of the apartment, was being repaired; its white sides were being covered with inscriptions, figures, emblems, and symbols, and around the floor were scattered tin kettles filled with paste, pots of vermilion, Sienna, and ochre, balls of packthread and cut paper figures. From the giant balloon sprung daily broods of smaller balloons, miniature balloons, made with remnants and fancifully decorated in pink and blue. At the meetings at DoÑa Eufrasia's they spoke contemptuously of these preparations and commented on the audacity of the inn-keeper's son, a mere dauber, who undertook to paint Don Victoriano's likeness on one of the divisions of the large balloon. The Romerist young ladies, compressing their lips and shrugging their shoulders, declared that they would attend neither the fire-works nor the ball, not if their adversaries were to offer novenas with that purpose to every saint in heaven.

On the other hand, the young ladies of the Combist party formed a sort of court around Nieves. Every afternoon they called for her to take her out walking; chief among these were Carmen Agonde, Florentina, the daughter of the Alcalde, Rosa, a niece of Tropiezo, and Clara, the eldest of GarcÍa's daughters. This latter was running about barefooted, spending her time gathering blackberries in her apron, when she received the astounding news that her father had ordered a gown for her from Orense, that she might visit the Minister's lady. And the gown came with its fresh bows and its stiff linings and the girl, her face and hands washed, her hair combed, her feet covered with new kid boots, her eyes cast down and her hands crossed stiffly before her, went to swell Nieves' train. Victorina took Clara GarcÍa under her especial protection, arranged her dress and hair and made her a present of a bracelet, and they became inseparable companions.

They generally walked on the highroad, but as soon as Clara grew more intimate with Victorina she protested against this, declaring that the paths and the by-ways were much more amusing and that much prettier things were to be met with in them. And she pressed Victorina's arm saying:

"Segundo knows lovely walks!"

As chance would have it, that same afternoon, returning to the town, they caught sight of a man stealing along in the shadow of the houses, and Clara, who was on the other side of the way, ran over to him, and threw her arm around his waist, crying:

"Hey, Segundo; you can't escape from us now, we have caught you."

The poet gave a brotherly push to Clara, and ceremoniously saluting Nieves, who returned his salutation with extreme cordiality, he said to her:

"The idea of this girl—I am sure she has been making herself troublesome to you. You must excuse her."

They sat down on one of the benches of the Plaza, to enjoy the fresh air, and when, on the following day the party walked out after the siesta, Segundo joined them, studiously avoiding Nieves as if some secret understanding, some mysterious complicity existed between them. He mingled among the girls and, laying aside his habitual reserve, he laughed and jested with Victorina, for whom he gathered, as they walked along the hedges, ripe blackberries, acorns, early chestnut burrs, and innumerable wild flowers, which the girl put into a little Russian leather satchel.

Sometimes Segundo led them along precipitous paths cut in the living rock, bordered by walls, supporting grapevines through which the expiring rays of the sun could scarcely penetrate. Again he would take them through bare and arid woods until they reached some old oak grove, some chestnut tree, inside whose trunk, decayed and split with age, Segundo would hide himself while the girls hand in hand danced around it.

One day he took them to the stone bridge that crossed the Avieiro, under whose arches the black water, cold and motionless, seems to be dreaming a sinister dream. And he told them how in this spot, where, owing to the water being deeper there and less exposed to the sun's rays, the largest trout gathered, a corpse had been found floating last month near the arch. He took them to hear the echo also, and all the girls were wild with delight, talking all together, without waiting for the wall to repeat their cries and shouts of laughter. On another afternoon he showed them a curious lake regarding which innumerable fables were told in the country—that it had no bottom, that it reached to the center of the earth, that submerged cities could be seen under its surface, that strange woods floated and unknown flowers grew in its waters. The so-called lake was in reality a large excavation, probably a Roman mine that had been flooded with water, which, imprisoned within the chain of hillocks of argillaceous tophus heaped up around it by the miners' shovels, presented a sepulchral and fantastic aspect, the weird effect of the scene being heightened by the somber character of the marsh vegetation which covered the surface of the immense pool. When it began to grow dark the children declared that this lugubrious scene made them horribly afraid; the girls confessed to the same feeling, and started for the highroad running at the top of their speed, leaving Segundo and Nieves behind. This was the first time they had found themselves alone together, for the poet avoided such occasions. Nieves looked around uneasily and then, meeting Segundo's eyes fixed, ardent and questioning upon hers, lowered her gaze. Then the gloom of the landscape and the solemnity of the hour gave her a contraction of the heart, and without knowing what she was doing she began to run as the girls had done. She heard Segundo's footsteps behind her, and when she at last stopped, at a little distance from the highroad, she saw him smile and could not help smiling herself at her own folly.

"Heavens! What a silly fright!" she cried, "I have made myself ridiculous. I am as bad as the children! But that blessed pool is enough to make one afraid. Tell me, how is it that they have not taken views of it? It is very curious and picturesque."

They returned by the highroad; it was now quite dark and Nieves, as if wishing to efface the impression made by her childish terror, showed herself gay and friendly with Segundo; two or three times her eyes encountered his and, doubtless through absent-mindedness, she did not turn them aside. They spoke of the walk of the following day; it must be along the banks of the river, which was more cheerful than the pond; the scenery there was beautiful, not gloomy like that of the pool.

In effect the road they followed on the next day was beautiful, although it was obstructed by the osier plantations and canebrakes and the intricate growth of the birches and the young poplars, which at times impeded their progress. Every now and then Segundo had to give his hand to Nieves and put aside the flexible young branches that struck against her face. Notwithstanding all his care, he was unable to save her from wetting her feet and leaving some fragments of the lace of her hat among the branches of a poplar. They stopped at a spot where the river, dividing, formed a sort of islet covered with cats-tails and gladioli. A rivulet running down the mountain-side mingled its waters silently and meekly with the waters of Avieiro. At the river's edge grew plants with dentated leaves and a variety of ferns and graceful aquatic plants. Segundo knelt down on the wet ground and began to gather some flowers.

"Take them, Nieves," he said.

She approached and, kneeling on one knee, he handed her a bunch of flowers of a pale turquoise blue, with slender stems, flowers of which she had hitherto seen only imitations, as adornments for hats, and that she had fancied had only a mythical existence; flowers of romance, that she had thought grew only on the banks of the Rhine, which is the home of everything romantic; flowers that have so beautiful a name—Forget-me-not.