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"Are you still in love with him?" my mother asked. 

"Deeply in love. More and more. We love each other, we really love each other." 

"He's a good boy," my mother said, turning to the window. "But are you sure he would be the right husband?"

"Very sure. He understands me completely. Imagine how lovely, and even ready, when we are married, to leave Cuba to come and live in Europe because, so he said, away from Europe I would end up being like a rose that, transplanted, risks losing its vitality and its scent..."

"This is very nice." my mother said and I put that indefinable Mona Lisa smile on my lips. "But be careful, Adriana: there is a difference between a fragrant rose and a daily wife."

"Juan is the right man. I will make him happy and he will make me happy. Don't you want me to be happy?"

"Of course I want it." my mother said and softly added: "I only live to see you settled and happy..." and suddenly I felt sad because I knew she was thinking about papa and how much she missed, and I remembered the words of the will: "I bless my Daughters, dear and good, certainly already set out on that path of righteousness and duty that they will certainly always know how to follow."

I looked at my mother's beautiful profile, her high smooth forehead, her thin silky hair and again Papa's last words: "I embrace my dearest wife Dora, who with her exquisite kindness and love has made my life sweet."

My mother got up. "Will I leave you the letter?" she asked.

"No mom, please take it away and read it for me..."

My mother took the letter from the table and left the room. I bent over the Royal that Papa had given me, where I was writing a letter for Juan, and burst into sobs.