“Town-major! one should have patience,” cried the general, striking his cards.
“What can excite so violently the bile of our uncle?” asked Raphael, on entering, of his cousin Rita.
“The report which is circulated.”
“What report?”
“That which names you town-major. Our uncle believes it is a joke.”
“He is right, I would not aspire to that honor. But I bring some news which has a thousand claims to be placed in the first circle.”
“News! news belonging to us all? Then relate it to us quickly.”
“Know then,” said Raphael, raising his voice, “that the Grisi of Villamar is ready to be heard on the stage of Seville.”
“Oh! what joy!” cried Eloise. “Here, then, is a veritable event, which will break up monotonous Seville from its ordinary routine, in which it has vegetated since San Fernando founded it.”
“The Conquest,” her friend Polo whispered.