In spite of all this Garnet would not give in. He was like a mastiff under the caresses and turbulent treatment of children, for he only cast angry looks at his tormentors, and every now and then gave vent to ominous growls.
Manuel Antonio repeated the list of his subtle arguments, enforcing them with sundry embraces, pats, and pinches, for he was eloquent and plausible to a degree. Paco let Manuel go on, taking care to give him many a sly corroborative wink, for he was certain that Garnet had no confidence in his remarks. But he came in with the final stroke. After having had himself implored and entreated by his two allies, who promised eternal secrecy by the nails of Christ, he finally drew a letter from his pocket. It was from Fernanda to a friend at Nieva. After casually explaining how it came into his hands, Paco read with the bated breath of mystery:
"There is no foundation in what you say of Luis. I have not renewed, nor do I wish to renew, my relations with him, and this for reasons too many to be given, and some of which you know. The suit of Don Santos, as there is nobody else, has a far better chance. He is certainly old for me, but very conventional and affectionate. I should not be surprised if I ended by having him."
Garnet listened with great attention, opening his eyes unusually wide with astonishment. When Paco finished, he said in a deep voice, "This letter is ipocryphal."
The three friends turned round in surprise, and great was their difficulty to keep from laughing, whilst Manuel Antonio improved the occasion by giving Don Santos another embrace and saying:
"Go to, you rude, mistrustful thing! Show him the letter, Paco. Do you not know Fernanda's writing? Emilita is constantly having letters from her. You are too modest, Santos. I will not say you are a perfect gentleman, but you have a certain grace and a certain je ne sais quoi."
"Yes, I should think so!" exclaimed Paco; "and you take what Manuel Antonio says, for he is a judge."
"There are some who can tell at once, my dear fellow," continued the latter, in a quick voice. "They have only to cast their eyes on a face and they know whether it is handsome, ugly, or mediocre."
But not wishing to waste any more breath in forwarding Paco's plans they left Garnet in peace, and the Chatterbox changed the conversation.
"Ah! here come some friends of yours, Don Cristobal!"