“Sir, pardon, I pray you, a poor friar for expressing himself in a manner conformable to the habit he wears, and to the rule he obeys. I may describe the person of a Moorish woman, a heathen, because, if God has made it beautiful, it is the only thing we can praise about her; since her soul is wrapped in the darkness of error. But you, yourself, have called your uncle’s betrothed a Christian woman; and I, for my part, am fully persuaded that she is worthy of that name; so--pardon me, if I express myself with too much warmth--I was going to say, that name so sublime. A Christian woman’s soul is the first, and perhaps the only thing about her worthy of praise, and any other eulogies would not sound well, coming from my lips. A body which incloses a soul, redeemed by the blood of Christ! Ah! I am not going to praise her to you with pretty words, or flowers of rhetoric. If I assure you that your future aunt is indeed a Christian woman, I have said all that I have to say.”
The tone in which the friar repeated this adjective, left no room for further urging. Besides, we had reached the gate. Nevertheless, when the father seized the knocker, I could not refrain from asking, in an insinuating tone:
“And do you come to the wedding out of pure friendship, Father Moreno?”
“Oranges!” he exclaimed, in the harsh tone which usually emphasizes the most innocent expletives; “Why, I have come to perform the ceremony!”
The ponderous gate swung open, and we found ourselves in a court filled with shrubs and creepers, which climbed all over the front of the villa, almost concealing its architecture. The vines and shrubs were covered with blossoms, and gave out a delightful fragrance--that divine perfume, beyond the reach of the chemist’s art, which can be distilled nowhere but in the mysterious laboratory of Nature.
Seated on stone benches and rustic iron chairs, enjoying the moonlight, were several persons who rose as we entered and came forward to welcome Father Moreno with joyful exclamations. They noticed no one but him at first, and that gave me time to study them attentively. My uncle was foremost, dressed in a white duck suit, and by his side was a young lady of medium height, of light and elegant figure, who uttered a cry of joy on seeing the father. On the left was a man pretty well advanced in years, bald and with a mustache--the father-in-law. Behind him stood a very young, little priest, almost a boy; and near him a tall girl of about sixteen years, and a little girl who could not have been more than twelve.