‘I have taken the immense liberty of intruding myself upon your notice, Madame.’
‘Not to sell me a Bible?’ exclaimed Señora Barenna, with her fan upheld in warning.
‘A Bible! I believe I have one at home, in England, Madame, but—’
‘It is well,’ said Madame sinking back and fanning herself rather faintly. ‘Excuse my fears. But there is an Englishman—what is his name? I forget.’
‘Borrow.’
‘Yes; that is it, Borrow. And he sells Bibles; and Father Concha, my confessor, a bear, but a holy man—a holy bear, as one might say—has forbidden me to buy one. I am so afraid of disobeying him, by heedlessness or forgetfulness. There are, it appears, some things in the Bible which one ought not to read, and one naturally—’
She finished the sentence with a shrug, and an expressive gesture of the fan.
‘One naturally desires to read them,’ suggested Sir John. ‘The privilege of all Eve’s daughters, Madame.’
Señora Barenna treated the flatterer to what the French call a fin sourire, and wondered how long Julia would stay away. This man would pay her a compliment in another moment.
‘I merely called on the excuse of a common friendship, to ask if you can tell me the whereabouts of General Vincente,’ said Sir John, stating his business in haste and when the opportunity presented itself.