not overcome their prejudices; they had too much common sense, and their heads were as hard as their hands.
"Caramba," said Uncle Blas, "his ugly-faced lordship takes it upon himself to call me Señor Blas, as if he were doing me a great honor. What do you think of that?"
"Well, look at me!" said Uncle Gil; "didn't he give me his hand as if we had been brought up like brothers? Doesn't he pretend to think me a city-bred man, when I have never been outside our parish, and never want to go?"
As for Aunt Holofernes, the more she looked at her son-in-law the more she distrusted him. It seemed to her that she could detect certain suspicious protuberances under that innocent-looking red hair, and she recollected with uneasiness the curse which she had pronounced upon her daughter the memorable day when she demonstrated, conclusively, how much it hurts to scald oneself with boiling lye.
At last the wedding-day arrived. Aunt Holofernes had made tarts and reflections, the first sweet, the latter bitter, a great dish of olla podrida for the wedding-dinner, and a deep-laid scheme for supper; had prepared a barrel of generous wine, and a plan of conduct not quite so much so.
When the bridal pair were about to retire to their apartment, Aunt Holofernes called her daughter and said to her:
"When you go into your room shut all the doors and windows, and stop up every hole and crack except the keyhole. Then take a branch of blessed olive, and begin to beat your hus-
