“The devil!”
“You are surprised.”
“Rather. I am surprised that a gentleman of Count Gonzaga’s position should think of linking his name with a lady of her character.”
“Por Dios! Your meaning?” cries the count, with a flash of Castilian wrath that causes Captain Alvarez to curse his hasty words, which must have emanated from jealousy or something deeper. Ashley wonders what.
“Oh, nothing,” Alvarez replies, carelessly. “You must pardon my unthinking remark, count. Believe me, I—”
“You will explain yourself to me, and at once, senor,” declares Gonzaga, with frigid emphasis.
There is a silence, which Alvarez, who sees that he is in for it, finally breaks with: “Very well, count, but I warn you that you will regret your insistence. You will have to excuse me now, as I have promised to dance this next figure. Meet me at this place a quarter of an hour hence, and I will endeavor to satisfy you.”
“Very good,” grits Gonzaga. “I will be prompt,” and the men separate.
“The fair Isabel is a star, surely,” soliloquizes Ashley. “Who would have dreamed that she was playing her cards for the role of a countess? Alas! Gonzaga will be brutally undeceived by Alvarez. The latter has put his foot in it and there is only one way out. Jupiter!”
Ashley leaps to his feet, for the inspiration of his life has come to him.