Don Fernando smiled again; but this time the smile was savage and sinister.
"Señor gobernador," said he, "you are not quite right. To judge by the news you were good enough to communicate, I believe the Indians will keep quite peaceably at home, unless they are determined to tempt ill luck."
"¡Rayo de Dios! I should think so," replied the governor.
"Ah! Señorita," said Don Torribio, gracefully turning to Doña Hermosa, "may I pray of your kindness to let us hear that delicious song from the Domino Noir, which you sang to such perfection a few days ago?"
Doña Hermosa, darted a look from under her long lashes at Don Fernando. The latter's eyes conveyed a mute prayer of entreaty. Without further hesitation, she placed herself at the piano, and, in a pure and feeling voice, sang the romance in the third act.
"I remember having heard that delicious romance sung in Paris by Madame Demareau, that nightingale who flew away too soon," said Don Torribio, bowing gallantly to Doña Hermosa. "I know not whether you or she sang it with most taste and spirit."
She answered: "Cousin, you have lived too long in France."
"How so, señorita?"
"Because," she replied, with a smile as cold and keen as the point of a poniard, "France has made you a detestable flatterer."
"¡Bravo!" chuckled the fat governor, whose cheeks shook with delight. "You see Don Torribio, our creoles rival the Parisian ladies in the smartness of their repartee."