The life of Rivera and his wife had gradually come into regular
channels; the house was now entirely furnished. Miguel arose early and
went to his library to work. Maximina stayed some time longer in her
room, making up for the trials which she had been obliged to undergo
both at the convent and at her aunt's house. Her constitution required
much sleep, and she had never been able to satisfy this necessity. Once
she had asked her aunt as a special favor:--
"Aunt, when will you let me sleep as long as I should like?"
"Some day, some day, I will let you."
But the day never came. She had been obliged to be up at half-past five
in the winter, and at five in summer, and there was no help for it. Now
that there was no one to torment her, since Miguel dressed as quietly as
possible so as not to wake her, she was able to indulge in her
slothfulness. When at last she got up she would go straight to the
library, and always greet her husband with a timid--
"What will you say to me?"
"What am I going to say to you, _tonta_? It must have been terrible to
get up so early! It is not yet quarter-past nine!"
Maximina, who had noticed in passing, that the clock said that it was
almost ten, was delighted with her husband's equivocation, and would
kiss him affectionately.
"Listen; you must call me to-morrow when you get up."
"All right, I will."
"On your word?"
"On my word of honor."
It is safe to say that Miguel did not fulfil this promise: he felt that
it was too great a pity to do so.
During the first months of their married life they made various calls,
and received an equal number; among others, one from the Galician
senoritas whose acquaintance they had made on the train; and they showed
Maximina a warm and boisterous affection, appropriate to such maidens.
Everywhere the young wife left a charming impression by her simple and
natural manners.
"What a good woman your wife must be!" said Miguel's friends, when they
found him alone.