Ramon, too, coloured scarlet.
"Paz, what horrible things you say," Esperanza went on, in indignant confusion. "If you say any such thing again I will go away and leave you."
"I beg your pardon, my dear," said the malicious little thing, enchanted at having put her friend and the deputy to such confusion. "I quite thought—so many people say—Well, if it is not Ramon it is Federico."
Maldonado frowned.
"Neither Federico nor any one else. Leave me in peace. Look, here comes Father Ortega. Get up!"
CHAPTER II.
MORE OF THE ACTORS.
A TALL priest, still young, with a full, pale face, blue eyes, and the vague gaze of short sight, was standing in the doorway. Every one rose. The Marquesa was the first to come forward and kiss his hand. After her, her daughters did the same, and then Mariana and the other ladies.
"Good-evening, Father." "Delighted to see you, Father." "Sit here, Father." "No, no, not there; come near the fire, Father."
The men shook hands with him affectionately and respectfully. The priest's voice, as he returned their greetings, was sweet and very low, as though there were a sick person in the adjoining room; his smile was grave, patronising, and insinuating. He had an air of having been dragged from his cell and his books with extreme difficulty—of coming hither much against his will, simply to do some good to the Calderóns, whose spiritual director he was, by the mere contact of his learned and virtuous person. His clothes and robe were fine and well cut; his shoes of patent leather with silver buckles; his stockings of silk.
Every one complimented him enthusiastically on a sermon he had delivered the day before at the Oratory Del Caballero de Gracia. He merely smiled, and murmured sweetly: "I am only glad, ladies, if you derived any benefit from it."