"How do you feel now, Juan? Are you warm enough? Perhaps you don't care for this wine." When the meal was over, the two brothers sat silently side by side before the fire. Santiago then inquired of one of the servants if the Señora and the children had already retired. On learning that they had, he said to Juan, beaming with delight,-- "Can you play on the piano?" "Yes." "Come into the parlor, then. Let us give them a surprise." He accordingly led him into an adjoining room and seated him at the piano. He raised the top so as to obtain the greatest possible vibration, threw open the doors, and went through all the manoeuvres peculiar to a surprise,--tiptoeing, whispering, speaking in a falsetto, and so much absurd pantomime that Juan could not help laughing as he realized how little his brother had changed. "Now, Juanillo, play something startling, and play it loud, with all your might." The blind boy struck up a military march. A quiver ran through the silent house like that which stirs a music-box while it is being wound up. The notes poured from the piano, hurrying, jostling one another, but never losing their triumphant rhythm. Every now and then Santiago exclaimed,-- "Louder, Juanillo! Louder!" And the blind boy struck the notes with all his spirit and might. "I see my wife peeping in from behind the curtains. Go on, Juanillo. She is in her night-gown,--he, he! I am pretending not to see her. I have no doubt she thinks I am crazy,--he, he! Go on, Juanillo." Juan obeyed, although he thought the jest had been carried far enough. He wanted to know his sister-in-law and kiss his nephews. "Now I can just see Manolita. Hello! Paquito is up too. Didn't I tell you we should surprise them? But I am afraid they will take cold. Stop a minute, Juanito!" And the infernal clamor was silenced. "Come, Adela, Manolita, and Paquito, get on your things and come in to see your uncle Juan. This is Juanillo, of whom you have heard me speak so often. I have just found him in the street almost frozen to death. Come, hurry and dress, all of you." The whole family was soon ready, and rushed in to embrace the blind boy. The wife's voice was soft and harmonious. To Juan it sounded like the voice of the Virgin. He discovered, too, that she was weeping silently at the thought of all his sufferings. She ordered a foot-warmer to be brought in. She wrapped his legs in a cloak and put a soft cushion behind his head. The children stood around his chair, caressing him, and all listened with tears to the accounts of his past misery. Santiago struck his forehead; the children stroked his hands, saying,-- "You will never be hungry again, will you, uncle? Or go out without a cloak and an umbrella? I don't want you to, neither does Manolita, nor mamma, nor papa." "I wager you will not give him your bed, Paquito," said Santiago, trying to conceal his tears under his affected merriment.