"You will see both there in dozens," replied d'Alta; "there are nearly three hundred monks there."
Despite the dissipation of the night, six o'clock the next morning saw me out of bed, and 7.45 found me dressed for the road and as fresh from my cold bath as if His Britannic Majesty's Minister at Valoro had not given a reception at all, and Donna Elvira della Granja's ball had never taken place, though I certainly put in an appearance at the former, sitting in a corner with Dolores and listening to her description of all the political notabilities present, and at the latter I certainly did my duty as an Englishman, as many a black-eyed donna could testify, albeit I had all the best waltzes with Dolores, and of course took her in to supper.
I think every one in Valoro by this time put us down as an engaged couple; especially as old Don Juan seemed a consenting party or discreetly blind to our proceedings.
St. Nivel told me afterwards of a conversation he overheard between two
American attachés at Donna Elvira's.
"I guess," remarked the "Military" to the "Naval," "that Englishman's goin' to walk off with old d'Alta's girl."
"You bet," confirmed the Naval, "he's fairly on the job. What is he?"
"Well, he's the cousin of that young Lord St. Nivel," responded the Military, "and that counts a lot, of course. But his real trade I'm told is book writing."
"Jeehosophat!" commented the Naval. "I guess he'll chuck that when he's Don Juan's son-in-law; the old snake-charmer will never tolerate a mere bookman in his drawing-room. His blue Spanish blood would all turn green, I reckon."
Thus was the humble calling of a novelist despised, even in Valoro!
When, however, I descended from my bedroom at 7.45, after partaking of a delicious petit déjeuner of coffee, milk, bread, and fruit in my apartment, I found Don Juan d'Alta ready for the road, and the motor at the door. In five minutes St. Nivel joined us.