"For my part,ñaltaMartayMarí" persisted the youth, with a deeply diplomatic smile,--"and I think the same may be said of all these people--it would give the greatest pleasure if you would search into your memory and let us listen to some.... Isn't it so, friends?"
"Yes, yes, Margarita, sing something, for Heaven's sake!"
"But supposing I don't remember anything!"
"Nonsense! it will come back to you.... If you once begin, you will find yourself gradually remembering it."
"It seems to me impossible.... Besides I always accompanied myself with the guitar."
"Isn't there a guitar in the house?" quickly asked the youth, jumping up from his chair.
The guitar which Marta brought lacked two or three strings, and they had to be put on, in which operation some time was lost. Then there was delay in getting them in tune. When it was once tuned the Señorita de Delgado declared up and down that she would not sing, for she did not remember anything. The tertulia was deeply grieved, and with reiterated entreaties endeavored to inspire her to recollect some delicious melody. But as the singer did not put up the instrument, and continued to thumb the strings softly, all became silent and waited eagerly for the song. However, just as the sensitive señorita was about to utter the first note, she made a fresh and categorical protestation to the same effect as before, and this so grieved the tertulia and particularly the youth with the banged hair, that they would gladly have granted the singer all the memory at their disposal, on condition that she would not leave it in any bad place. At last the señorita fixed her eyes on the ceiling, and in a quite dulcet though quavering voice, she struck up the following song, the music of which I would transfer to paper with great pleasure, if I knew how to write the score. Unfortunately, in my philharmonic studies I never went beyond the key of G with even moderate success:--
"_Hope that art so flattering to my inmost feeling,_ _Thou dost all my bitter sorrow calm._ _Ay! thou art no creature of imagination._ _To the heart thou bringest welcome balm._ _If a cruel fate remove me from the presence_ _Of my loved one many leagues away,_ _Then 'tis Hope alone that soothes my deep affliction,_ _Promising a brighter, happier day._"