“What? How’s that? Was His Excellency here? And in your house? A lie!”
“I tell you he sat right there. If you had come two days before——”
“Ah! What a shame that little Clara did not fall sick before!” exclaimed she, in real sorrow. And directing herself to Linares: “Do you hear, cousin? His Excellency was here! You see De Espadaña was right when he told you that we were not going to the house of a miserable native. For you should know, Don Santiago, that our cousin was a friend of all the Ministers in Madrid and all the Dukes, and he dined in the house of Count del Campanario (belfry).”
“Duke de la Torre (tower), Victorina,” said her husband, correcting her.
“It amounts to the same thing. Do you think you can tell me that——”
“Would I find Father Dámaso in town to-day?” interrupted Linares, turning to Father Salví. “They have told me that he is near here.”
“He is, precisely, and will come here in a little while,” replied the curate.
“How glad I am! I have a letter for him,” exclaimed the young man. “And if it had not been for this happy chance which brought me here, I would have come expressly to visit him.”
“The happy chance—that is, Maria Clara—had, in the meantime awakened.”
“De Espadaña!” said Doña Victorina, finishing her breakfast. “Are we going to see little Clara?” And turning to Captain Tiago, “For you only, Don Santiago; for you alone! My husband does not treat anybody except people of categoría, and he even refuses some of them! My husband is not like those about here—in Madrid he only visited people of categoría.”