"Is it possible you didn't know his name?" was her surprised ejaculation. Then she said, "I wonder whether he is anywhere about?"
"I fancy he's asleep," said Maria Dolores.
"Asleep? At this hour?" The dark eyebrows frowned their protest. "That sounds like a sad slugabed."
Maria Dolores looked serious. "He was up all night. We have a child ill here, and he was up all night, watching."
The stranger's grey eyes filled with concern and sympathy. "I hope, I'm sure, it's not that pretty little girl, the niece of the parroco?" she said.
"Unhappily, it is," said Maria Dolores. "She has been very ill indeed."
"I am extremely sorry to hear it, extremely sorry," the old lady declared, with feeling. "If I can be of any sort of use—if I can send anything—or in any way help—" Her eyes completed the offer.
"Oh, thank you, thank you," replied Maria Dolores. "You are most kind, but I don't think there is anything any one can do. Besides, she is on the mend now, we hope. The doctor says the worst is probably over."
"Well, thank God for that," exclaimed the visitor, with a will. She considered for a moment, and then reverted to the previous question. "So you did not know that my vivid young friend's name was Blanchemain?"
"No," said Maria Dolores.