At last the great day arrived. It was a Wednesday, and of course I had to
go to school as usual. We did not know at what hour my father would come
from Paris with Paula, and so every moment I said to myself, "Perhaps they
have arrived!" Result--my lessons went from bad to worse, but at last at
five in the afternoon, I reached the house breathless only to find that
Paula had not yet come. "They are not coming!" I cried impatiently, "I knew
they wouldn't be here!"

"Then why did you run so fast?" Teresa asked.

I said nothing, but soon Rosa also arrived, and after tea I put all my
books in order, redressed my dolls, got rid of the ink on my hands with
pumice-stone, and in between each task, took a turn in the garden on the
passing of any coach-but always with the same result! Would they _ever_
arrive? Then came supper-time. Catalina had been up and dressed all day and
would not hear of going to bed until Paula came. Our summer days are very
long, but night had arrived, the lamps had been lighted, and we had
resigned ourselves to wait without the consolation of seeing the road from
the window. Then suddenly--Oh, joy! We heard a faint sound of wheels in the
distance; then clearer and clearer as they rattled over the pavement of the
deserted street. Teresa had already arisen from her chair. I had a wild
desire to run out in the dark to receive my young cousin for whom I had
waited all these weeks, but something seemed to detain me. Then while I
waited questioning myself as to what I would say to Paula, trying to
remember all the many counsels of Teresa, our old servant staggered in from
the yard with a great bag in each hand. Then our father entered with a
young girl at his side dressed in black. Paula had come!

In anticipation I had fancied Paula as a pale, sad little girl with blue
eyes full of tears. She would have golden hair, very smooth, cut off at the