“They will be coming back from church in a moment.” Patsy, whom we had not seen that morning, brought the news. “I saw them go into San Jeronimo’s. The bride wore a white dress like others I have seen, only longer; her veil was lace—not that flimsy stuff; it did not cover her face.” He was proud of having observed, and remembered so much.
Soon after we heard the joyous marriage music, and the long, glittering procession began to pass again, much in the same manner as before, only the Queen sat beside the King in the crystal and gold coach with the big crown on the top. As they passed through the Puerta del Sol they bowed and smiled to the people; their happy young faces were flushed with heat and excitement. When the coach had disappeared down the Calle Mayor I confessed my plan to the company.
“I am going to leave you, to slip round by the back streets to the Youngs’ house, opposite the palace. From their windows I can see the procession turn from the Calle Mayor into the palace yard and drive up to the door.”
“Do not let her go,” I heard Don Jaime say emphatically in Spanish; he added something that I did not hear.
“It will be very hot,” said Lucia.
“Ninety in the shade,” Patsy agreed. “One of us will have to go with you.”
“Luncheon is ready,” said our hostess.
“Iced melon in the hand is worth a good deal in the bush,” said J., “but of course I will take you if you really want to go.”
“It’s pretty jolly here,” murmured Patsy.
“Champagne?” whispered the waiter.