Strangely enough, the whole family appeared to regard the ensuing silence as a thing altogether natural and seemly, like a silence in church. When it had lasted long enough, Donna Perpetua arose from her chair in a curiously formal manner, and, going to one of the side doors, called out, "Margarida!" But the monk, although he was vaguely conscious that the others were preoccupied and constrained, still suspected nothing. The door opened, and Margarida Clara Maria dos Santos Rebolla came forward into the meager light. Antonia recognized her at once as a damsel he had often seen kneeling on the church floor in the front row of women. So far as his thoughts had ever engaged themselves with her, she had interested him by her dark eyes and by the country bloom on her olive skin. He remembered how, that very morning, she had pleasantly filled in the picture of rustic piety. Antonio rose as she entered. He saw that her head was rather less attractive without the black lace mantilla she always wore in church. Her face was a little too broad and her abundant hair was braided too tightly. But, to make up for the mantilla, Margarida had adorned her person with unfamiliar splendors. Of her fine lawn camisole only the snowy sleeves could be seen. The rest was hidden by an over-bodice richly embroidered in many-colored wools. Her ample apron was even more magnificent than the bodice. Its bold stripes, triangles, circles, stars and crosses stood out nearly a quarter of an inch from the velvet ground in wools of blue, orange, vermilion and green. The full skirt, rather short, revealed a pair of serviceable ankles. Margarida's ribbed stockings were white, and there was more embroidery on her velvet slippers. But the maiden's chief glory was her jewelry. Heart-shaped filigree ear-rings, of gold purer than an English sovereign, hung from her ears. These hearts were fully two inches long. Her three golden necklaces sustained two more filigree hearts, each as long as her longest finger, and a solid gold cross set with colored stones. The greater part of her belt was also built up from traceried squares and circles of pure gold. The monk feared that he had gazed too long and curiously either at these gorgeous trappings or at their wearer: for Margarida suddenly blushed crimson from her topmost necklace to the roots of her black hair. Donna Perpetua pronounced a formula of introduction; but, overwhelmed by maidenly confusion, Margarida said nothing in answer to Antonio's few words. She fled to her mother's chair and huddled on a stool beside her.