XXI.
Reinaldo did not go to his Prudencia. He went down to the booths inthe town and joined the late revelers. Don Guillermo, rising beforedawn, and walking up and down the corridor to conquer the pangs ofDona Trinidad's dulces, noticed that the door of his son's room wasajar. He paused before it and heard slow, regular, patient sobs. Heopened the door and went in. Prudencia, alone, curled up in a farcorner of her bed, the clothes over her head, was bemoaning manythings incidental to matrimony. As she heard the sound of heavy stepsshe gave a little shriek.
"It is I, Prudencia," said her uncle. "Where is Reinaldo?"
"I--do--not--know."
"Did he not come from the ball-room with thee?"
"N-o-o-o-o."
"Dost thou know where he has gone?"
"N-o-o-o, senor."
"Art thou afraid?"
"Ay! God--of--my--life!"
"Never mind," said the old gentleman. "Go to sleep. Thy uncle willprotect thee, and this will not happen again."
He seated himself by the bedside. Prudencia's sobs ceased gradually,and she fell asleep. An hour later the door opened softly, andReinaldo entered. In spite of the mescal in him, his knees shook as hesaw the indulgent but stern arbiter of the Iturbi y Moncada destiniessitting in judgment at the bedside of his wife.
"Where have you been, sir?"
"To take a walk,--to see to--"
"No lying! It makes no difference where you have been. What I wantto know is this: Is it your duty to gallivant about town? or is yourplace at this hour beside your wife?"
"Here, senor."
The old man rose, and, seizing the bride-groom by the shoulders, shookhim until his teeth clattered together. "Then see that you stay herewith her hereafter, or you shall no longer be a married man." And hestamped out and slammed the door behind him.