"I don't make fun of anybody, much less of you," he returned, without raising his eyes from the paper, and with his voice lower every minute, and evidently agitated. Venturita kept her eyes fixed upon him with a mocking expression, in which the triumph of satisfied pride was plainly visible.
"Come, then, you draw them, Mr. Clever," she said, as she passed him the pencil and paper with gracious condescension.
The youth acceded to the suggestion, as he ventured to raise his eyes to the girl's, but he quickly dropped them as if he feared their magnetism. He took the book from her lap on to his knee, put a piece of white paper on it, and proceeded to draw.
But instead of the letters, he began to sketch, with some skill, the head of a woman; first the hair parted in two braids, then the straight, pretty forehead, then a delicate nose, a pretty, short chin joined to the throat by a soft, graceful curve. It was wonderfully like Venturita. The girl, leaning on the shoulder of her future brother, followed the movements of the pencil, and a vain smile gradually overspread her face. After drawing the head Gonzalo proceeded to delineate the figure, and the peignoir, or dressing-gown, worn by the girl was soon reproduced; but he took some time drawing minutely the silk bows with which it was fastened in front. When the picture was finished, Venturita asked him in a mischievous tone:
The young man raised his head and their smiling eyes met. Then, quickly and decisively, he wrote under the drawing:
Venturita took the paper in her hands and looked at it with delight for some moments; then, with a pout of assumed disdain, she gave it back to him, saying:
But before it reached Gonzalo's hands Cecilia stretched out hers and snatched it from him laughingly, saying:
Then Venturita sprang from her seat, as if she had been stung, and caught hold of her sister's hand.
"Give it up, give it up, Cecilia! Let go!" she cried, with her face aflame and distorted with a forced smile.
"Let be, child; let her see it. What does it signify to you?" said Doña Paula.
"I don't like anything being taken from me by force," Venturita cried, turning serious. Then realizing that she was losing ground, she resumed her smile, saying: