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DOÑA MATILDE. No tal, antes al contrario se opone a ello. BRUNO. ¿Y dice usted que se casa? DOÑA MATILDE. Dentro de media hora ... ahí está el misterio. BRUNO. No puede ser eso entonces, niña. DOÑA MATILDE. Te digo que sí ... D. Eduardo lo ha arreglado ya todo, y me vendrá a buscar dentro de media hora para llevarme a la iglesia. BRUNO. No será el hijo de mi madre el que le abrirá la puerta.
We saw many another wild volcanic cliff and fissure and cave on our two-days' tour round the island of Fayal; but it was most startling, when, on the first morning, as we passed from green valley to valley along the road, suddenly all verdure and life vanished, and we found ourselves riding through a belt of white, coarse moss stretching from mountain to sea, covering rock and wall and shed like snow or moonlight or mountain-laurel or any other pale and glimmering thing; and when, after miles of ignorant wonder, we rode out of it into greenness again, and were told that we had crossed what the Portuguese call a Misterio or Mystery, the track of the last eruption.
Lucia fixed him with her beady eyes, ready and eager to show how delighted she was to bestow approbation wherever it was deserved. "Wonderful!" she said. "I felt, and so did Peppino, that the words were as utterly wasted on that formless music as was poor Miss Bracely's voice. How did it go, Peppino? Let me think!" Lucia raised her head again with the far-away look. "Amore misterio!" she said.
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