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Roberto engaged in conversation with the bride, who struck him as being very personable and agreeable; she spoke English quite well, and they exchanged a few words in that tongue.

“Too bad she’s marrying such a dolt,” thought Roberto.

At the banquet one of the old men began to tell a number of smutty tales that brought blushes to the bride’s cheek. Bernardo, who had drunk too freely, jested with his cousin’s wife with that coarseness and gracelessness which characterized him.

The return from the ceremony to the house in the evening, was gloomy. Bernardo was in high feather and tried to play the elegant gentleman. Esther spoke to Roberto about her departed mother, and the solitude in which she dwelt.

On reaching the entrance to the house, the guests took leave of the couple. As Roberto was about to go, Bernardo came up to him and, in a lifeless, scarcely audible voice, confessed that he was afraid to remain alone with his wife.

“Man, don’t be an idiot. What did you get married for, then?”