"Then bring me up some hot water, soap, and towels. You may prepare a hasty supper, as well—but let it be fit for a gentleman to eat!"
"Yes, yes! Your Excellency!" and Pedro nearly brought back his rheumatic spell by the renewed bobbing of the stiff old back, as he retreated to the barroom.
He returned promptly after breaking the gladsome tidings of the treat, and led the nobleman up the stairway, as a chorus of cheers rang out from the alcoholic ward.
"The Duke! The Duke! His Excellency the Duke of Alva!"
Robledo walked to the door, with his characteristic swashbuckler rhythm, and stirred them up to more enthusiasm.
"Louder, you beggars, or I'll give you something to yell about—louder, I say!"
Dolores had slipped through the doorway, facing the road.
Suddenly she danced in through the entry again, happy and exultant.
"Her Highness has come, father. Her Highness!"
Old Pedro stumbled toward the balcony and peered over at her querulously.