“Well, but it is not just that you should—in this way—without knowing who I am——”
The traveler did not answer.
“But tell me, for Heaven’s sake!” resumed Lucía, in the silvery tones of her infantile voice, “what can have become of Miranda? What do you think of the situation in which I am placed? What am I to do now?”
The traveler turned round in his seat and confronted Lucía with the air of a man who finds himself forced to take part in a matter that does not concern him but who resigns himself to the necessity. The fresh tones of Lucía’s voice suggested to him the same reflection as before:
“It seems impossible that she should be married. Any one would think she was still in the school-room.” And aloud he said:
“Let us see, Señora. Where did you part from your husband? Do you remember?”
“I cannot tell. I fell asleep.”
“And where did you fall asleep? Can you not remember that either?”
“At the station where we took supper. At Venta de Baños. Miranda got out to see to the luggage, telling me to rest awhile—to try to sleep——”
“And you tried to some purpose!” murmured the traveler, with a slight smile. “You have slept ever since—five hours at a stretch.”