“No, Pepe, I am not well. The disorder you have caused me, the cold I felt on leaving the theatre, has injured me. I am chilly.”
“You do the princess! Come with me, a good supper will cure you sooner than ass’s milk. Come, let us go.”
“I will not go out. We have one of those north winds, which, while it would not extinguish a candle, kills a man.”
“It is well! if it pleases you, so let it be. Since you wish to pamper yourself, pamper thyself, and—good-evening!”
“How! you are going to supper? You leave me? You leave me alone, and ill, as you see, and ill because of your fault!”
“Well! what? Do you wish I put myself on diet? No, no, my beauty. They are waiting for me, and I go; you lose some hours of pleasure.”
Maria seemed to regain courage. She rose, went out, and slammed the door with anger. Pepe Vera laughed. An instant after she came back, dressed all in black, her face hidden under a thick mantle, and enveloped in a large shawl. Thus disguised she went out with Pepe Vera.
On entering his house, well advanced in the night, Stein received from his servant a billet, which he read as soon as he was in his chamber. It ran thus—
“Señor Doctor,
“Do not believe that this is an anonymous letter; I act frankly, and I tell you my name at the commencement—Lucia del Salto. It seems to me it is a name sufficiently known.