"I am better, thank you."
"Is not this noise bad for you?"
"No; I was bored to death in bed. Besides, I did not wish to deprive the young people of the one enjoyment they can get occasionally at Lancia."
"Thank you, Amalia," exclaimed a young lady who was dancing and overheard the last remark, and Amalia responded by a kind smile.
Another couple from behind then knocked against the gentleman, who was still standing.
"Always devoted, Luis!"
"To no one more than yourself, Maria," replied the young man, affecting to hide his embarrassment under a laugh.
"Are you sure that I am the only one?" she asked with a mischievous glance at the partner who held her in his arms.
Maria Josefa Hevia was at least forty, and she had been almost as ugly at fifteen. As her means were not equal to her weight, no one had dared redeem her from the purgatory of solitude. Until quite lately she still entertained hopes that one of the elderly Indian bachelors, who came to pass their declining years in Lancia, would ask her hand in marriage; and these hopes were founded on the fact that these gentlemen frequently contracted alliances with the daughters of distinguished people in the place, portionless as they generally were.
On her father's side, Maria Josefa was connected with one of the oldest families, being related to the Señor of Quiñones, in whose house we now are.