I interrupted her by praising her modesty, and telling her that she would have done quite right to beware of me, if my sense of duty had not been stronger than any voluptuous desires inspired by her charms.
Don Diego pronounced this declaration of love as good as anything to be found in the “Morte d’Arthur.”
His daughter said I was laughing at her, but Don Diego said he was certain that I was in earnest, and that I had known her before taking her to the ball.
“You are utterly mistaken,” said Donna Ignazia, with some degree of fire.
“Your father is wiser than you, senora,” I replied.
“What! How and when did you see me?”
“At the church where I heard mass, and you communicated, when you went out with your cousin. I followed you at some distance; you can guess the rest.”
She was speechless, and her father enjoyed the consciousness of his superior intellect.
“I am going to see the bull fight,” said he; “it’s a fine day, and all Madrid will be there, so one must go early to get a good place. I advise you to go, as you have never seen a bull fight; ask Don Jaime to take you with him, Ignazia.”
“Would you like to have my companionship?” said she, tenderly.