"What a handsome man," said Miss Cotoner, following the tall figure of the Australian with her eyes.
"Bah! a beef-eating Englishman," retorted Vassalla, with an angry light in his wicked black eyes, "he has no brain."
"You've to find that out yet," retorted the young lady, who seemed to take delight in tormenting her companion. "I think he's charming. I'm sure he looks it; I saw him yesterday on the Barraca."
"Remember you are engaged to me," replied the Marchese, angrily.
"By my parents, yes," she replied, coldly; "but not with my own consent."
"Consent, bah! let wiser heads guide yours, Carmela."
"Well, I certainly would not ask your head to take the position," replied Carmela, contemptuously. "Why do you annoy me like this; do you think I left my sister only to be worried by you? No, I don't think so, there is too much of the frying-pan into the fire theory in that for me."
"I will get your sister to take you back," he said, vindictively.
"Oh no, you won't," she retorted, turning on him; "I'm of age--my own mistress, and I have elected to go and stop with my cousins in England. If I choose to marry an Englishman I certainly will in spite of your threats; so good-bye Matteo, I'm going to dress for dinner," and she walked gracefully away, leaving the Marchese in a delightful temper.
"Bah!" he muttered angrily to himself, "she is only a woman; patience my good Matteo, you shall win her yet, and then----." He closed his mouth with an angry snap that did not argue well for the happiness of Miss Cotoner's future life.