“Ai Villegas, com’ esta V.?”
Queen Maria Cristina, who was walking next, stopped, called Villegas, and gave him her hand. The Infanta Isabel, the Infanta Eulalia, and the Infanta Maria Teresa, all stopped and spoke to him. The tall Swedish Crown Prince followed suit, and the Russian Grand Duke Vladimir, who seemed overjoyed at seeing him, patted him on the shoulder.
When the royal cortége swept out of the room, I was breathless with surprise and excitement.
“They all seem to know you,” I cried. “What is the bond between you and the Russian Grand Duke?”
“Quien sabé?” said Villegas. “He has been at my studio; and the Czar once bought a picture of mine.”
That reminded me of the portrait of the King. I persuaded Villegas to take me to the room where it hangs—and holds its own—among the other royal portraits.
XVII
HASTA OTRA VISTA
“ARE you painting?” Don Luis, the Valencian, put his head into the studio. “Am I too early? The fandango is to-day, isn’t it?”
“Adelante!” cried Villegas, “the ladies have come. Imperio will be here soon. I am only preparing my work for to-morrow.” He stood before a new canvas making a charcoal drawing of Angoscia.
“He cannot waste five minutes!” sighed Lucia.