CHAPTER XXXIX.
THAT SPANISH NOBLEMAN.
"Miss Eaton was enthusiastic about the scenery of the river, as the boat swept over its amber-hued waves, and the scenery became more and more Arcadian. She was a little romantic too, and fell into some childish affectations, that gave me a fair excuse for not thinking her perfect. Upon the boat was a tall, powerful looking man, with bold black eyes, and the carriage of a person used to power of some kind. His dress was remarkable,—the short jacket of the country, buttoned and ornamented with quantities of round golden buttons, that rattled and tinkled as he walked up and down, was ornamented with a very rich embroidery, in which gleams of crimson and brown were enwrought on the blue ground with delicate effect; a traveling cap, also richly embroidered, sat jauntingly on the side of his head. Everything about him was apparently new, and if too gorgeous, effective.
"Miss Eaton watched this man with her furtive blue eyes, as he passed us ever and again, each time fastening his gaze on her face with a look of audacious admiration that made the blood come hotly into my cheek.
"'What is he, have you any idea?' she whispered, as he passed us for the fifth time, 'some nobleman I am sure. Don't you think so, Miss Crawford?'
"I answered pleasantly, that as this was the first country of Europe that I had seen, it was impossible for me to judge what particular trait distinguished its nobility. While I was saying this, a little fussy woman, wearing a showy dress and lace mantilla, came up to us and called Miss Eaton by name.
"'My dear,' she said, giving Lucy's bonnet a jerk forward. 'Have you seen him?'
"'Who, mamma?'
"'Why that duke, he passed here just now, and I saw him looking at you—with that bonnet stuck on end, dear me!'
"Lucy began to re-arrange her bonnet, entering into her mother's anxiety. 'Was it—was it the gentleman with the buttons, mamma. How is it now? too far forward I think,—with the buttons?'
"'Such buttons!' interrupted the mother, 'solid gold every one of 'em, blue blood, every drop in his veins—any one could swear to that without telling. Did you see him, Miss?'