"Why did not my father send his own carriage for me?" she asked.
"Because Don Juan was not taken ill at the Villa Moraquitos. He was attacked in a gaming-house at the other end of the city, and it is thither I'm taking you."
"My father stricken with illness in a gaming-house!" said Camillia. "My father a gambler?"
"Ay, that surprises you no doubt. There are many secrets in this city of ours, Donna Camillia, and your father knows how to keep his. It was to avoid all scandal that I brought you away from the Opera-House by a species of stratagem. It would not have done for that brilliant assembly to know whither I was bringing you."
"It is to some infamous haunt then?" said Camillia.
"All vices are infamous," answered the planter. "It is to the haunt of the rich and idle—the aristocratic and dissipated. But perhaps your womanly nature shrinks from this ordeal. If it be so, I will drive you home without delay. There is no absolute necessity for your seeing your father to-night. To-morrow he may be well enough to return to the Villa Moraquitos, and in the meantime I do not think there is any serious danger."
These last words were uttered slowly and hesitatingly, as if the speaker felt them to be untrue, and only spoke them in the desire to comfort his companion.
Camillia's suspicions were completely dispelled.
"You do not think he is in danger?" she exclaimed. "Can you imagine Camillia Moraquitos so poor a coward as to shrink from visiting her beloved father because he lies in a gambling-house? Had he been stricken in the most infamous den in New Orleans, I would enter it alone to comfort and succor him."
Had there been a lamp near to illumine the planter's face at this moment, Camillia might have again beheld the triumphant smile which had before alarmed her.