"And the Señora and the girl—what are they like?"
Segundo half-closed his eyes the better to contemplate an attractive and charming image that presented itself to his mental vision, and to reflect that in the existence of Nieves he played no part whatsoever, it being manifest folly for him to think of Señora de Comba, who did not think of him. This reflection, natural and simple enough, aroused his anger. There was awakened within him a keen longing for the unattainable, that insensate and unbridled desire with which the likeness of a beautiful woman dead for centuries may inspire some dreamer in a museum.
"But answer me—are those ladies handsome?" the schoolmistress asked again.
"The mother, yes"—answered Segundo, speaking with the careless frankness of one who is secure of his auditor. "Her hair is fair, and her eyes are blue—a light blue that makes one think of the verses of Becquer." And he began to recite:
"'Tu pupila es azul, y cuando ries
Su claridad suave me recuerda——'"
Leocadia listened to him at first with eyes cast down; afterward with her face turned away from him. When he had finished the poem she said in an altered voice, with feigned calmness.
"They will invite you to go there."
"Where?"
"To Las Vides, of course. I hear they intend to have a great deal of company."
"Yes; they have given me a pressing invitation, but I shall not go. Uncle Clodio insists upon it that I ought to cultivate the friendship of Don Victoriano so that he may be of use to me in Madrid and help me to get a position there. But, child, to go and play a sorry part is not to my liking. This suit is the best I have, and it is in last year's fashion. If they play tresillo or give tips to the servants—and it is impossible to make my father understand this—and I shall not try to do so: God forbid. So that they shall not catch a sight of me in Las Vides."