At this astounding conjunction Guy bites his lips, fighting down a smile and Doña de Pariza gives out a half-smothered chuckle.
But the girl steps up to her and cries: “Don’t dare to look as if you jeered my father’s name; don’t dare to accuse him of cruelty. He has always been good to me as an angel. I’ll not hear it from your lips—or YOURS EITHER!” for a little of Guy’s smile has escaped from him, and she comes walking up to her lover with haughty face, saying: “Remember, I am a Viceroy’s daughter.”
“Penalty!” laughs Chester.
“Oh yes—oh—oh—I forgot! Yes, my lord!” and [[234]]making obeisance to him. As he exacts the forfeit she whispers: “Oh Santos! you are awful—you kiss me every chance you get.”
At this scene Duenna de Pariza glares astounded, and mutters to herself: “God be praised, Miss Spitfire has at last found her master! This worthless, dissipated Guido Amati will make her dance to his fiddling, I warrant you!” then goes to her chamber, leaving the two alone, at which they are nothing loath.
Could La Pariza gaze in upon them one moment later she would be even more astounded, for she would see Colonel Guido Amati giving Miss Hermoine a little lecture upon the advantages of keeping both temper and tongue well in hand.
To this the girl listens attentively with downcast eyes in a manner that rather astonishes but intensely delights Guy, as he has now made up his mind that there is only one way to gain this lady of his love—that is to carry her off; and to do that he feels he must dominate her completely, entirely.
But continuing this lecture a little too long, she suddenly cries: “Bug-a-boo! Bug-a-boo! Viceroy’s daughter!” and dances up laughing. And he, pursuing her, to exact penalty; they have a merry race of it about tables and chairs and over divans, Hermoine gathering up her long court train and fleeing with dainty feet and agile ankles before him, until at last he catches her at the third curtained arch of the room, one whose drapery he has never yet seen raised.
Here she, as he holds her in his arms, grows very serious and whispers: “Don’t scold me; if you say the word I’ll do penance, my Guido, for being haughty with you, but not with her. In here I’ll say ten Ave Marias for you to-night.” Then drawing aside the curtains she shows him the chapel of the house, illuminated, behind whose burning tapers stands the picture painted by his dead friend, the masterpiece of Oliver, and murmurs: “Here is where I pray for you!”
“Yes,” responds Guy, pointing to the lovely Madonna, “I worship at that same shrine myself.”