"Don Eugenio!"
"Your servant, Señorita." He bowed elaborately and coldly. "You keep the lamp burning, and I accepted its invitation. Your cheeks, too, Señorita, keep the old colour. I congratulate you—and you, Doña Isabel." He bowed to the old lady. "To live with youth—that is the way to live always young."
She had moved forward again, as if to take him by both hands: but faltered. "Yes, we have kept the lamp burning, Don Eugenio," she answered with a voice curiously strained. "My friends"—she turned to the young men—"rise and salute our guest of guests, Don Eugenio Fuentes!"
"Fuentes!"
"What are you telling us, Luisa? The Fuentes? But it is impossible!"
"Impossible! Fuentes comes no more to Salamanca."
Nevertheless all had sprung to their feet, and Fuentes comprehended them all in an ironical bow.
"That is the name by which I call myself, Sirs, since leaving the University."
Luisa made a dumb signal, and one of the youths handed him a guitar. He struck but one chord to assure himself of its tune—
"There's one that lives in Salamanca
All up a dozen flights of stairs;
There with the sparrows, night and morning,
Under the roof she chirps her prayers.
They say her wisdom comes from heaven—