The young lady, without farther pressing, sat down to the pianoforte, and sang the romance from the third act in a pure voice.
"I heard that sung in Paris by Madame Damoreau, a nightingale who has flown away, and I cannot say which of you displays more grace or simplicity."
"Don Torribio," Doña Concha answered, "you lived too long in France."
"Why so, señorita."
"Because you have come back a detestable flatterer."
"Bravo!" the governor said with a hearty laugh. "You see, Don Torribio, that our creoles are equal to the Parisian ladies in quickness of repartee."
"Incontestably, colonel," the young man replied; "but leave me alone," he added with an undefinable accent, "I shall soon take my revenge."
And he gave Doña Concha a look that made her shudder.
"I trust, Don Torribio," the governor said, "that you will be present tomorrow at the Te Deum chanted in honour of our glorious Rosas?"
"Impossible, colonel; this very evening I start on a compulsory journey."