“The wife you require is in Leon itself.”
“In Leon! Yes, perhaps you are right, it might be easier there. But I don’t see—. The de Argas are already engaged; Concha Vivares is rich in expectations only; she has an aunt who intends to make her her heiress at her death, but before that event occurs—— The de Hornillos girl—no, she has nothing but patents of nobility, and they won’t make the pot boil.”
“You are flying too high; young ladies are at a discount. Wait a moment and I will show you——”
Colmenar rose, and opening one of the drawers of his desk, took from it a strip of paper, yellow with age and covered with names, like a proscription list. And it was in truth a list; in it were inscribed in alphabetical order the names of the feudatories of the great Colmenarian personality, residing in the various provinces of the Peninsula. Under some of the names was written a capital L, which signified, “Loyal”; others were marked V L, “Very loyal”; a few were marked, “Doubtful.”
The leader placed his forefinger on one of the names marked L.
“I offer you,” he said to Miranda, “a young girl who has a fortune of perhaps more than two millions.”
Miranda opened wide his eyes, and stretched out his hand to take the auspicious list.
“Two millions!” he exclaimed. “But there is no one like you for these finds.”
“You may have seen in Leon the person whose name is inscribed here,” continued Colmenar, indicating the line with his nail. “A robust, fine-looking old man, strong and vigorous still, Joaquin Gonzalez, the Leonese?”
“The Leonese! There is no one I know better. He has come to the government office of Leon several times, on business. Of course I know him. And now I remember that he has a daughter, but I have never taken any particular notice of her. She is very seldom seen.”