"One thing is wanting, mama."
"What?"
The girl hesitated, as if to gain courage, and then, in a trembling voice, she said:
"There is no dressing-room for Gonzalo."
"That's true. I never thought of that. Where was my head? There is no room about here—wait a moment—wait. We might put the pantry downstairs, and then there would be that little room, which, nicely furnished, would perhaps do. The only thing is, it does not communicate with the other rooms; he will have to cross the passage."
"What does that matter?"
They then returned to the dining-room, and to the same seats in the corner. Presently Venturita came in, in a white peignoir, cut so as to show her alabaster throat and part of her beautiful neck; her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her feet were shod with gorgeously embroidered Eastern slippers. She came to say "Good-night" before retiring to rest, and, approaching her mother, she gave her a kiss, making teasing faces at her sister the while, which Gonzalo could not see.
"Well, good-night," she said, giving Gonzalo her hand.
"Good-night," he returned, with an admiring glance, and in a tone of admiration not unnoticed by the girl.
She was just going away when a coquettish feeling made her turn back at the door and say to Cecilia: