Accompanied by his valet, who walked at a respectful distance behind, bearing his poncho and umbrella, our acquaintance, Don Pedro Florez, walked along the Alameda, with a cigar in his mouth, his sombrero stuck very much over his right eye, and both hands thrust into his trousers pockets. He peered or leered into the faces of all the ladies with an air of assurance that he might not have adopted, had he and Zuares not recently dined. He inquired of a water-carrier for the mansion of Don Salvador, and it was speedily pointed out to him.
"Demonio!" thought Pedro, as he ascended the broad flight of marble steps in front; "it is a regular palace, this! And what if Donna Ignez should have been too ill to travel after her cold bath?—she may be still at Valparaiso."
Pedro was somewhat scared, and Zuares was so completely, by the magnitude and magnificent aspect of the mansion, the door of which was open, revealing a lighted vestibule, and lamps were shining through nearly all of its lofty windows. The balconies were richly gilded; the Venetian blinds were all up, and thus the rich curtains, the draperies, and gilded ceilings of the apartments could be seen from the Alameda.
Don Salvador was at home.
Pedro took his cloak from his valet, whom he told, with great condescension, to amuse himself for the remainder of the evening at the dancing-rooms, but to be at their hotel before midnight. Zuares touched his hat, with his tongue in his cheek, while his brother was ushered into the ante-cámera, or drawing-room, where Don Salvador, Don Perez, and Padre Eizagiuerro (whom he could very well have spared) received him with great politeness; but the first alone with any cordiality.
Coffee and chocolate were being served round, and Donna Ignez came forward, blushing and smiling, to be presented to her "brave preserver."
She was, evidently, of pure Spanish blood; her pale brunette complexion showing clearly that there was no native mixture in her blue veins; while her eyes, and their lashes and brows, were black as night.
As Pedro surveyed the girl's pure loveliness, not her least attractions seemed to be her necklace, her long pendant ear-rings, her bracelets, and high Spanish comb, all en suite—all blood-red rubies, which sparkled all the brighter for the snowy pearls that mingled with them in settings of richly-chased gold, for Pedro Barradas had the eye and heart of a pirate.
Two sisters of the pale and discontented Don Perez were present—Donna Erminia, a tall and magnificent girl (whose broad white shoulders and large proportions made Pedro wish that she had been the merchant's daughter), and little Donna Paula, who was only some ten years old or so, but who seemed a miniature edition of Erminia, with a high comb, fan, and veil, a demure little face, and calm, black, inquiring eyes. She sat on a velvet hassock near the knee of Don Salvador, with whom she was an especial favourite.
All unused to society such as this, Pedro was sorely abashed for a time, till his natural impudence came to his aid. His past education, and his service as a boy in the cathedral church of Orizaba, he now recalled with success, and the knowledge he had gained of clerical matters, served him in his endeavours to cast "dust in the eyes" of the Padre Eizagiuerro as to his real character, and yet, withal, the priest mistrusted him.