Fulanita's conduct is ñaltaMartayMarígenerally of a piece. In reality she doesn't care a fig for Fulanito; but as they say he is her sweetheart, she does all she can to carry out the idea, and so she keeps turning her head to look for him when she comes out of school; at the German she selects him as a partner more times than the others; she hurries to the window when he passes, and blushes when they joke her about him. But these pseudo-affections are almost never lasting, and rarely become real. They begin silently, they live their day silently, and silently they pass away when the girl puts on long dresses. The reason for such fickleness is very obvious. Fulanito has as yet attained the age, not of love affairs, but of the gymnasium, _suspensos_, and sage cigars. Fulanita is already far more perfectly developed as far as the life of the heart is concerned, and in her inmost soul she has a profound scorn for Fulanito, who does not know how to descant on affinity and love, is incapable of kissing a fan fallen from the hand, and hasn't a sign of a mustache.
Of this sort, though with slight variations, was our Marta's friendship with Manolito Lopez. To the general causes which tend to wither and nip in the bud such predilections must be added in this case the very slight similarity of their characters. Manolito, though he had an expressive and even handsome face, was mischievous, obstreperous, quarrelsome, and saucy; one good quality was observable in him: he was not inclined to be spiteful. Marta was placid, taciturn, and reserved; the fault which they found with her at home was that she was somewhat obstinate. It was not possible, therefore, to have a more complete antithesis. If this had not been so, Marta would have come to love Manolito, for her temperament was opposed to change not only in the furniture of her room, but in the sentiments of her heart.
When they had finished moulding various thin covers of pastry, Marta went to work to put some of them on top of others in copper baking-dishes, which made the bottom of the pie. Then one of the maids put in the pork, neatly trimmed and cut into small bits. The lard, well seasoned with spices, exhaled a stimulating, appetizing odor, which made the mouth water. When once the bits were laid on the bottom crust in the most accurate order, the girl went to spreading new covers of pastry which she laid over the pork. Ricardo no longer helped her; he was evidently tired of it. But when it came to making the ornaments for the top, he once more hastened to offer his services, and he took great delight in designing in the dough a thousand kinds of mosaics, arabesques, and figures of every species that was ever seen. Marta put an end to such dilettante labors by taking the pastry from his hand, for he was never done. When the pie was made, the girl herself put it in the oven, and following a pious custom traditional in that part of the country, she made the sign of the cross over it, and repeated a Pater Noster so as to obtain a happy result.