"I will go at once, Señora," and he was about to act on her orders.
But Clementina, whose brows had knit at her friend's preposterous demand, stopped him, exclaiming:
"You certainly shall not go, Alcázar. We will make Cobo go for it next time he returns."
The young man stood doubtful with his hand on the door; but Clementina repeated more positively, colouring as she spoke:
"You are not to go—not on any account."
Raimundo turned to Lola with a bow.
"Forgive me, Señora, to-day I am sworn to this lady's service. I will be your slave some other day."
And neither Lola's noisy laugh, nor the sarcastic smiles of the others, could spoil the grateful emotion he experienced at his mistress's eager interest.
Ramon Maldonado was in the other saloon, where also were Esperanza and her mother with some other ladies, whom he deliberately laid himself out to charm by his discourse. He was giving them a full and particular report, in the most parliamentary style he could command, of some curious incidents in the last sitting. He was already master of all the commonplace of civic oratory, and knew the technical cant very thoroughly. He could talk of the order of the day, votes of confidence, private bills, committees of supply, the previous question, obstruction, suspension, and closure as if he himself were the patentee of this elaborate outcome of human ingenuity. He knew the municipal bye-laws as well as if he had invented them, and discussed questions of city dues, sewage, weights and measures, and seizure of contraband, so that it was a marvel to hear him. Finally, being a man of unfathomable ambition, he had joined a party in opposition to the Mayor, a step which he hoped might lead to his nomination as a member of the board of highways.
For a long time past he had been waging a covert but determined struggle against one Perez, another deputy not less ambitious than himself, for this very appointment, in which he believed that his great gifts as an innovator would shine with peculiar splendour. The various public places of Madrid were awaiting the redeeming hand which might give them fresh life and splendour, and the hand could be none other than that of Maldonado. In the recesses of his brain, among a thousand other portentous schemes, there was one so audacious that he dared not communicate it to any one, while he was incubating it with the fondest care, determined to fight for this child of his genius till his dying day. This was no less than a plan for moving the fountain of Apollo from the Prado to the Puerta del Sol. And a whippersnapper fellow like Perez, a narrow-minded slow-coach, with no taste or spirit, dared to dispute the place with him!