"Fear not, dearest, and do not think it is guilt which has prompted my flight. Be faithful and trust me that all will yet be well; and remember that I may be near you when least you look for me. Affect an utter indifference to my fate, and mingle in the gay world as you have ever done. This is necessary to disarm suspicion. Above all, throw Augustus Horton off the scent, and let him believe that I have left America forever.
"Ever and ever yours,
"Paul."
Camillia Moraquitos obeyed the instructions contained in this brief epistle; and when Don Juan entered her boudoir half an hour afterward, he found his daughter apparently in her usual spirits.
Delighted at this change, he proposed that Camillia and Pauline should go to the opera that evening, attended by himself, and the ladies assented with every semblance of gratitude.
The Opera-House was thronged that night with all the rank and fashion of New Orleans. It was the occasion of the re-appearance of a brilliant Parisian actress and singer who had lately returned to Louisiana after a twelve-months' absence in France.
The box occupied by Don Juan was one of the best in the house, and amongst all assembled, there was none lovelier or more admired than Camillia Moraquitos.
The Spanish girl wore a dress of rich amber silk, flounced with the costliest black lace.
Her classically molded head was encircled by a simple band of gold, studded with diamonds.
She waved a perfumed fan of ebony and gold in her small gloved hand.