In the midst of affairs, Doña Victorina, Don Tiburcio, and Linares arrived. As usual, Doña Victorina talked for the three men and herself; and her speech had undergone a remarkable change. She now claimed to have naturalized herself an Andalusian by suppressing d’s and replacing the sound of s by that of z. No one had been able to get the idea out of her head; one would certainly have needed to get her frizzes off the outside first. She talked of visits of Linares to the captain-general, and made continual insinuations as to advantages a relative of position would bring.
“As we say,” she concluded, “he who sleeps in a good shade, leans on a good staff.”
“It’s—it’s the opposite, wife.”
Maria Clara was yet pale, though she had almost recovered from her illness. She kissed Doña Victorina, smiling rather sadly.
“You have been saved, thanks to your connections!” said the doctora, with a significant look toward Linares.
“God has protected my father,” said Maria, in a low voice.
“Yes, Clarita, but the time of miracles is past. We, the Spaniards say, trust not in the Virgin, and save yourself by running.”
“It’s—it’s—the contrary, wife!”
“We must talk business,” said Doña Victorina, glancing at Maria. Maria found a pretext for leaving, and went out, steadying herself by the furniture.
What was said in this conference was so sordid and mean, that we prefer not to report it. Suffice it to say that when they parted, they were all satisfied. Captain Tiago said a little after to Aunt Isabel: