She spoke calmly and with a sort of authority.
They went out together.
“We are late for our luncheon,” Elena said as they got into their carriage. “We must lose no time, if we are to see the king and queen go out to drive. Are you decided to leave Madrid to-morrow?”
“I don’t know,” Tacita replied absently.
“I shall want to know this evening, dear; so try to make up your mind. I want to send for some of my people to meet us. I hope that you will like my people.”
“If they are like you, I shall love them,” Tacita said.
“How long will you be content to stay with us?” the woman asked.
“How can I say, Elena? You have told me that your people are quiet, kind, and unpretending. That is pleasant, but only that is not enough for a long time. I want to see persons who know more than I do, who can paint, play on instruments, dance, sing, model, write poetry, speak with eloquence, and govern with strength and justice. I think that my heart would turn to lead if I had to live forever with people who were uncultivated. But if your people are like you, they are not merely simple. You know a great deal more than I do; and you are always simpatica.”
“By simplicity, I do not mean ignorance,” her friend said. “Professor Mora was simple. Some barbarous persons are very involved and obscure.”
“Oh! if you speak in that sense”—