"Amen!" said Duval, solemnly; and they remained clasped in each others arms, with hearts too full for speech.
Suddenly they heard the sound of a prolonged yawn, and had just time to separate before Doña Serafina caught them in that close embrace. Fortunately, they had been hidden by an angle of the azotea wall, so the good lady, who had just awakened, and was still bemused with sleep, saw nothing. When she was thoroughly awake, however, she espied Jack in all the bravery of his uniform, and came forward with a light step and an exclamation of delight.
"El Regimiento de los Caballeros!" she exclaimed, admiringly. "Santissima! how the uniform does become you, Don Juan. I do so admire handsome Americanos," added the lady, languidly. Dolores laughed at this naïve confession, but Jack, modest Jack, blushed through the tan of his skin.
"Really, Doña Serafina, I am much obliged, I kiss your hands," he answered, confusedly. "I have just arrived"—he had been there half an hour—"just arrived, Señora, and I had not the heart to disturb you."
"Has the child spoken?" said Doña Serafina, waving her fan towards Dolores, who stood with downcast eyes, inwardly convulsed, outwardly demure.
"Oh yes; a little. She has not the brilliant tongue of her aunt," replied Jack, artfully.
"Pobrecita! She is young; she is a kitten. She will yet improve. I was the same at her age."
"The deuce you were," thought Jack, with secret apprehension, surveying her portly form. "I hope Dolores won't be the same at your age."
"And Don Pedro?" asked the duenna, languidly.
"Will lay his heart at your feet this evening, Señora."