Would it, or would it not, be so well seasoned, piquant, and aromatic as my imagination depicted?
But when I had seated myself at the table; when I saw the dish before me and felt its bland fragrance penetrating my nostrils, a ray of light illumining my brain dissipated that dark spectral doubt. My heart began to palpitate with inexplicable pleasure. I comprehended that the gods still held in reserve some moments of happiness in this world.
Dame Ramona divined the emotion that overpowered my soul, and smiled with maternal benevolence.
"What's that, Dame Ramona?" I exclaimed, pausing with my fork held motionless in the air. "Did you hear it?"
I threw down the fork and rushed to the door, followed by my hostess. When I opened it I heard a sound of incoherent lamentation.
"My mother! Help! For God's sake! She is drowning!"
In two jumps I leaped over the rampart between me and the wharf, and made out the figure of a woman waving her arms convulsively and uttering piteous screams.
I saw what had happened, and, running to her, I asked:
And she pointed out the narrow space in the water between a lighter and the wharf.
Although narrow, it was too wide for me to reach the craft. I plucked up courage, however, and sprang for the rigging rather than the deck, managing to grasp a cable. In this way I dropped to the deck. Seizing the first rope I came across, I made it fast and slid down to the water's edge. Happily, the woman had also grasped the rope and so kept herself afloat. When I got to her I endeavored to seize her by the head. But only a wig remained in my hand! I made another attempt, and this time caught her arm. I drew her to the side of the vessel. Then I saw that it would be impossible to get her out without help. How could I climb the rope with one hand only? Fortunately the cries of the daughter, together with my own, aroused the crew of a lighter, composed of four sailors, and they easily got us out. There were some planks at hand, and so we reached the wharf with her and took her to an apothecary's near by, where she was at last restored to consciousness.
While the apothecary was attending her, the daughter, pale and silent, bent over her, her face bathed with tears. She was a young lady of good stature, slender, pale, her hair black and wavy; her whole personality, if not of supreme beauty, attractive and interesting. She was dressed with elegance, her mother also; and I inferred that they were persons distinguished in the town. But one of the throng that had pressed into the shop informed me that they were strangers, and had been but a few days in Gijon.