After supper they found eggs piled upon silver dishes in the sala, and
with cries of "Cascaron! Cascaron!" they flung them at each other, the
cologne and flour and tinsel with which the shells were filled deluging
and decorating them.
Dona Jacoba again was in a most gracious mood, and leaned against the
wall, an amused smile on her strong serene face. Her husband stood by
her, and she indicated Elena by a motion of her fan.
"Is she not beautiful to-night, our little one?" she asked proudly.
"See how pink her cheeks are! Her eyes shine like stars. She is the
handsomest of all our children, viejo."
"Yes," he said, something like tenderness in his cold blue eyes, "there
is no prettier girl on twenty ranchos. She shall marry the finest
Englishman of them all."
Elena threw a cascaron directly into Dario's mouth, and although the
cologne scalded his throat, he heroically swallowed it, and revenged
himself by covering her black locks with flour. The guests, like the
children they were, chased each other all over the house, up and down
the stairs; the men hid under tables, only to have a sly hand break a
cascaron on the back of their heads, and to receive a deluge down the
spinal column.
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