“Poor Spain!” sighed the general, pressing the duke’s hand, and lifting his eyes to heaven.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE duke had procured for Stein and his wife a boarding-house kept by a poor but honest family. The good German had found in the drawer of a bureau, which they had given him the key of when he took possession of his apartments, a sum of money which would have sufficed for his wants, however exaggerated. This money was accompanied by a note thus worded: “Here is the just tribute due to the service of a surgeon. Sincere gratitude and friendship alone can recompense the care and the watchfulness of a friend.”
Stein was transfixed with confusion.
“Ah! Mariquita,” he cried, showing this writing to his wife, “this man is grand in all he does. He is grand by his race, grand in heart, grand in his virtues. Like God he raises to his height the small and the humble. He calls me his friend, I who am a poor surgeon; he speaks to me of gratitude, I who am overwhelmed with benefits!”
“What is all this gold to him?” replied the Gaviota; “a man who has millions, as the hostess tells me, and whose farms are large as provinces! And without you would he not have remained a cripple all his life?”
The duke entered at that moment. He cut short the expressions of gratitude of which Stein was prodigal, and addressed himself to Marisalada—
“I came,” he said, “to ask a favor; will you refuse me, Maria?”
“What could we refuse you?” quickly replied Don Frederico.
“Very well, then,” continued the duke. “Maria, I have promised one of my intimate friends, that you will go and sing at her house.”