The visconte himself had held one of the best of these sinecures. He had been the royal cork-drawer or napkin ring-holder-in-chief, or something equally important, and the loss of the salary had been hotly resented.
It sounded intensely ridiculous; but the viscontesse herself was full of indignation; and her friends all agreed and joined in abusing the Government with a violence which, although entirely laughable, proved how widespread was the discontent among those who had been staunch in their loyalty.
It was on this feeling among the higher classes that Barosa was working on behalf of the Pretender, Dom Miguel.
Just as I was leaving, the viscontesse found a moment to tell me she wished to have had more opportunity of talking to me, so I promptly asked her to come to luncheon on the Stella the next day, and she was hesitating when Miralda came in. We were standing near the door and she joined us. She greeted me with just the same air of detached friendliness she had shown on the previous evening; but when her mother spoke of my invitation, she surprised me.
“It will be delightful, and I should like it above all things—that is if the invitation is to include me, Mr. Donnington?”
“Why, of course.”
“And can we have a little run out to sea? I love the sea you know.”
“It shall be exactly as you wish,” I replied, and having arranged that the launch was to be ready for them at noon, I went off delighted at the prospect of having Miralda and her mother to myself, for some hours.
CHAPTER VIII
MIRALDA’S MASK
THE next morning was gloriously fine, and I was on the Stella in good time to see that all was in readiness. Old Bolton, my skipper, muttered something about the wind shifting and that we should probably have a change in the weather, but for once I didn’t believe him, and just before noon I jumped into the launch and went off in high spirits to fetch Miralda and her mother.