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the custom now, for true piety seems banished from the world; but in the good old religious days it was a most ordinary and commonplace affair, no one who pretended to be a good Christian neglected to do this kind of penance. Come now, get ready to give me this pleasure that I ask of you, and at the same time to perform a good work. Wait a minute: I'll bring what we want."

And running to the bureau, she pulled out of a drawer a scourge, a veritable scourge, with a turned-wood handle and leathern thongs. Then, all in a tremor of excitement and nervousness, that set her cheeks ablaze, she returned to Genoveva and put it in her hand. The maid took it in an automatic way, scarce knowing what she did. She was completely dazed. The fair young girl began anew to caress her, and give her heart with persuasive words, to which she did not answer a syllable. Then the Señorita de Elorza, with tremulous hand, began to let loose the dainty blue-silk wrapper she wore. There shone on her face the anxious, excited foretaste of joy in the caprice which was about to be gratified. Her eyes glowed with an unwonted light, showing within their depths the expectation of vivid and mysterious pleasures. Her lips were as dry as those of one parched with thirst. The circle of shadow around her eyes had increased, and two hectic spots of crimson burned in her cheeks. Her breath came with agitated tremor through her nostrils, more widely dilated than was usual. Her white, patrician hands, with their taper fingers and rosy nails, loosed with strange speed the fastenings of her gown. With a quick movement she shook it off, and stood free.

"You shall see that I mean it," she said: "I have almost nothing on. I have prepared myself already."

In truth the next moment she took off, or rather tore off, a skirt, and remained only in her chemise.

She stood so an instant; cast a glance at the implement of torture in Genoveva's hand; and over her body ran a little shiver, compounded of cold, pleasure, anguish, affright, and anxious expectation, all in one. In a low voice, changed from its usual tones by emotion, she appealed:

"Papa must not know of this."

And the light stuff of the chemise slipped down along her body, caught for an instant on the hips, then sank slowly to the floor. She remained nude. Genoveva contemplated her with eyes that could not withhold admiration as well as reverence, and the girl felt herself a little abashed.

"You are not going to be angry with me, Genoveva dear, are you?"

The waiting-maid could only say, "For God's sake, señorita!"

"The sooner the better, now, for I shall take cold."

By this consideration she wished to constrain the woman still more forcibly to the task. With a feverish movement she snatched the scourge from her left hand and put it in her right; then throwing her arms again around her neck, and kissing her, she said, very low and affecting a jocose tone:

"You are to lay it on hard, Genovita; for thus I have promised God that it should be done."

A violent trembling possessed her body as she uttered these words but it was a delicious kind of trembling that penetrated to the very marrow of her bones. Then taking Genoveva by the hand, she pulled her along a little towards the table on which stood the effigy of the Savior.

"It must be here, on my knees before our Lord."

Her voice choked up in her throat. She was pale. She bowed humbly before the image; made the sign of the cross rapidly; crossed her hands over her virginal breast; and turning her face, sweetly smiling, towards her maid, said, “Now you can begin."

"Señorita, for God's sake!" once more exclaimed Genoveva, overwhelmed with confusion.

From the eyes of the señorita flashed a gleam of anger, which died away on the instant; but she said in a tone of some slight irritation," Have we agreed upon this or not? Obey me, and do not be obstinate."

The maid, dominated by authority, and convinced too that she was furthering a work of piety, now at length obeyed, and began to ply the scourge, but very gently, on the naked shoulders of her young mistress.

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The first blows were so soft and inoffensive that they left no trace at all on that precious skin. Maria grew irritable, and demanded that they be forcibly given.

"No, not like that; harder! harder!" she insisted. "But first wait a moment till I take off this jewelry: it is ridiculous at such a time."

And she swiftly pulled off the rings from her fingers, snatched the pendants from her ears, and then laid the handful of gold and gems at the foot of the effigy of Jesus. In like manner St.

Isabel, when she went to pray in the church, was used to deposit her ducal coronet on the altar.

She resumed the same humble posture; and Genoveva, seeing that there was no escape, began to lacerate the flesh of her pious mistress without mercy. The lamplight shed a soft radiance throughout the room. The gems lying at the feet of the Saviour alone caught it sharply, and flung out a play of subtle gleams and scintillations. The silence of that hour was absolute; not even the sighing of a breath of wind in the casements was heard. An atmosphere of mystery and unworldly seclusion filled the room, which transported Maria out of herself, and intoxicated her with pleasure. Her lovely naked body quivered each time that the curling strokes of the lash fell upon it, with a pain not free from voluptuous delight. She laid her head against the Redeemer's feet, breathing eagerly, and with a sense of oppression; and she felt the blood beating with singular violence in her temples, while the delicate fluff of hair growing at the nape of the neck rose slightly with the magnetism of the extreme emotion that possessed her. From time to time her pale, trembling lips would murmur, "Go on! go on!"

The scourge had raised not a few stripes of roseate hue on her snowy white skin, and she did not ask for truce. But the instant came when the implement of torture drew a drop of blood. Genoveva could not contain herself longer; she threw the barbarous scourge far from her, and weeping aloud, caught the señorita in her arms, covered her with affectionate kisses, and begged her by her soul's sake never to make her recommence the perpetration of such atrocities. Maria tried to console her, assuring her that the whipping had hurt her very little. And now, her ardor a little cooled, her ascetic impulses somewhat appeased, the young mistress dismissed her servant, and went to her bedroom to retire to rest.

JUAN VALERA.

VALERA, JUAN Y ALCALÁ-GALLIENO, an eminent Spanish poet and novelist; born at Cabra, in the province of Cordova, October 18, 1824. He has held diplomatic posts at Naples, Dresden, St. Petersburg, Lisbon, Washington, and Brussels, and is a member of the Spanish Academy. His work in verse and prose includes "Poesias" (1858); "Estudios Criticos" (1864); "Pepita Ximenez " (1874); "Las Ilusiones del Doctor Faustino " (1876); "El Comendador Mendoza" (1877); "Doña Luz" (1878); "Dissertaciones y Juicios Literarios" (1878); "Tentivas Dramaticas" (1879); "Apuntes sobre el Nuevo Arte de escribir Novelas" (1887); "Cuentos, Diálogos y Fantasias" (1887); "Nuevos Estudios Criticos" (1888); "La Buena Fama" ("A Good Reputation") (1895).

PEPITA'S APPEARANCE AT THE GARDEN PARTY.
(From "Pepita Ximenez.")

PEPITA XIMENEZ, who, through my father, had heard of the great pleasure I take in the gardens of this district, has invited us to visit one that she owns at a short distance from the village, and to eat the early strawberries that grow there. This liking of Pepita's to show herself so gracious to my father, who is a suitor for her hand, while at the same time in that capacity she will have none of him, often seems to me to savor not a little of a coquetry worthy of reprobation. But when on the next occasion I see her so natural, so perfectly frank and simple, the injurious fancy passes; and I feel that she must do everything with the most limpid purity of mind, and that she has no other purpose than to preserve the friendly feeling that unites our family to hers.

Be that as it will, the day before yesterday we paid the visit to Pepita's garden. . . . By quite a sybaritic piece of refinement, it was not the gardener, nor was it his wife, nor his son, nor, indeed, any other person of the rustic sort, who waited upon us at the luncheon; it was two pretty girls, con

fidential servants as it were of Pepita, dressed in the usual peasant costume, yet with consummate neatness and elegance. Their gowns were of a bright-colored cotton stuff, short in the skirt, and trimly fitted to their figures; they wore silk handkerchiefs crossed over their shoulders, and in the abundant black tresses of each one . . showed a fresh sprig of roses.

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Pepita's gown, except that it was of rich quality, was equally unpretentious. It was of black wool, and cut in the same form as those of the maids; without being too short, its wearer had taken care that it should not trail, nor in slouchy fashion sweep up the dust of the ground. A modest silk handkerchief, black also, covered her shoulders and bosom after the fashion of the country; and on her head she wore neither ribbon, flower, nor gem, nor any other adornment than that of her own beautiful blonde hair. The only detail in Pepita's appearance in which I noticed that she departed from the custom of the country people, and showed a certain fastidiousness, was her concern to wear gloves. It is apparent that she takes great care of her hands, and prides herself with some little vanity on keeping them white and pretty, and the nails polished and of roseate hue. But if she has so much of vanity, it is to be pardoned to human weakness: and indeed, if I recollect aright, even St. Theresa in her youth had it also; which did not hinder her from becoming the very great saint she was.

In fact I quite understand, though I do not undertake to defend, that particular bit of vanity. It is so distinguished, so high-bred, to have a comely hand; I even frequently think it has something symbolical about it. The hand is the minister of our actions; the sign of our innate gentility; the medium through which the intelligence vests with form the inventions of its artistic sense, gives being to the creations of its will, and exercises the sovereignty that God conceded to man over all created things.

A NOONDAY APPARITION IN THE GLEN.

(From "Pepita Ximenez.")

My father, wishing to pay off to Pepita the compliment of her garden party, invited her in her turn to make a visit to our country-house of the Pozo de la Solana. . . . We had to go in the saddle. As I have never learned to ride horseback, I mounted, as on all the former excursions with my father, a

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