she fancied that a million eyes were fastened upon her. But suddenly her
fears and her shame were dispelled. At the window of the room occupied
by Senor Pinzon appeared a man, dressed in blue; the buttons on his coat
shone like rows of little lights. She approached. At the same instant
she felt a pair of arms with galloons lift her up as if she were
a feather and with a swift movement place her in the room. All was
changed. Suddenly a crash was heard, a violent blow that shook the house
to its foundations. Neither knew the cause of the noise. They trembled
and were silent.

It was the moment in which the dragon had broken the table in the
dining-room.



CHAPTER XXV

UNFORESEEN EVENTS--A PASSING DISAGREEMENT

The scene changes. We see before us a handsome room, bright, modest,
gay, comfortable, and surprisingly clean. A fine matting covers the
floor, and the white walls are covered with good prints of saints and
some sculptures of doubtful artistic value. The old mahogany of the
furniture shines with the polish of many Saturday rubbings, and the
altar, on which a magnificent Virgin, dressed in blue and silver,
receives domestic worship, is covered with innumerable pretty trifles,
half sacred, half profane. There are on it, besides, little pictures in
beads, holy-water fonts, a watch-case with an Agnes Dei, a Palm Sunday
palm-branch, and not a few odorless artificial flowers. A number of
oaken bookshelves contain a rich and choice library, in which Horace,