"Julita," said her mother, "tell them to put on the breakfast; you must feel weary, Alfonso."
"No, aunt; I feel hungry, though. The word is more prosaic, but it is nearer the truth."
La brigadiera, with a laugh, accepted the arm which her nephew offered her as they went to the dining-room. During the meal he entertained the ladies in the same agreeable fashion, telling them a thousand curious incidents, giving them minute descriptions of the soirées in the fashionable society of Paris. They were most interested in what he had to say about the ladies' dresses and the decoration of the salons.
During the conversation he never once forgot those gallant and thoughtful attentions which were demanded by his situation. By intuition he discovered when Julita's wine-glass was empty; he offered his aunt the olives; he passed her the mustard, cut the bread for her, etc.
Julia was merry, and perhaps rather more talkative than usual; but when she made use of any expression that was a little more piquante than usual, she would feel her cheeks flush under her cousin's steady, smiling, and somewhat ironical gaze.
It was the first time that she had ever forced herself to be witty and sharp and say sharp things. When she said anything that was particularly clever, Saavedra would look up, and his smile would seem to say, "This little girl is bright."
Julia was rather humiliated by his smile at first, but then she read under it an expression of scornful protection, or at least of absolute indifference, scarcely masked by the extreme courtesy which he showed in all his words and gestures. For in this respect Don Alfonso did not weary a single instant; he did not miss a single opportunity of showing them his subordination, and of giving both his aunt and cousin to feel how agreeable he could be to them.
In the days that followed, his gallantry did not in the least relax. La brigadiera wrote her cousin, assuring her that "she would keep her nephew not merely a month, but all his life in her house; that he was a perfect gentleman, and that young men could not in Spain possibly acquire such an admirable education and such manners as he possessed."
A hearty and perfect confidence quickly grew between him and Julia; the girl amused him with her lively and picturesque chatter which recalled to the exile his years of childhood and youth.
Don Alfonso played the guitar as well as the piano, and to his skill and facility in singing Polish and Spanish songs was due in no small measure his social success in Parisian society. But there he played and sang to attract the notice of the ladies and make himself known, while here it was for his own pleasure or to bring to mind happy days or events.