It is true that they had never said it, not only because it seemed to them that it was not necessary to say, but especially because they were stopped at the moment of speaking by a sort of terror--the terror of being mistaken about each other's sentiment--and now they knew, they were sure.

Then they had the consciousness of having passed together the grave and solemn threshold of life.

And, leaning on one another, they faltered, almost, in their slackened promenade, like two children intoxicated by youthfulness, joy and hope.
"But do you think your mother will consent ?" said Ramuntcho timidly, after the long, delightful silence-- "Ah, that is the trouble," replied the little girl with a sigh of anxiety--"Arrochkoa, my brother, will be for us, it is probable.

But mother ?--Will mother consent ?--But, it will not happen soon, in any case--You have to serve in the army." "No, if you do not want me to! No, I need not serve! I am a Guipuzcoan, like my mother; I shall be enrolled only if I wish to be--Whatever you say, I'll do--" "My Ramuntcho, I would like better to wait for you longer and that you become naturalized, and that you become a soldier like the others.

I tell you this, since you ask--" "Truly, is it what you wish?
Well, so much the better.