“What do they not know how to do, these sons of liberty?” replied Polo.
“But, señorita,” replied the general, “why do you not read Spanish books?”
“Because every Spanish book bears the seal of a coarse stupidity,” replied Eloise. “We are deplorably in arrears.”
“What do you think, then, should constitute a writer of merit in this detestable country,” added Polo, a little piqued, “if we attain eminence in nothing, if we know only how to plagiarize? How would you that we revise our country and our manners, if there is to be found nothing good, nothing elegant, nothing characteristic?”
“At least,” said Eloise, “you do not extol, like the Germans, the orange-tree, with its flowers and fruits; like the French, the boléro; and, like the English, the wine of Jerez (sherry).”
“Ah! Eloisita,” cried Polo, enthusiastically; “here is a spirituelle sally! If she is not French, she deserves to be.” And thus speaking, Polo, as usual, was himself but a plagiarist: he repeated one of the set phrases of France as an axiom.
The general had the good fortune not to hear this dialogue; they summoned him to the card-table. Raphael entered, accompanied by the prince, whom he presented to the countess. She received the stranger with her usual amiability, remaining seated, according to Spanish usage. The prince was tall and slender, and he appeared to be about forty-five years of age; but, beyond his noble title, he possessed no distinction, either of person or of manners. The society was then complete. All waited for the cantora, with an impatience mixed with some doubt as to the real value of her talent.
Major Fly threw himself affectedly into a chair near some young ladies, and cast on them glances as homicidal as the thrusts of a fencing-foil. Sir John held his eye-glass bent on Rita, who paid no attention to him. The baron, seated near an old councillor, asked him if the Moors whitened their houses with chalk.
“I have no documents on this subject,” replied the magistrate. “This point has not had the advantage of having received the attention of our historians.”
“What ignorance!” thought the baron.