The innkeeper was naturally a kind man, but he had become too indolent and corpulent to resist the strong will of his termagant wife. "When he saw the sad-eyed little one that she had brought home, he brushed away a tear with his big brown hand, and determined to save the unfortunate from all trouble, as much as he could; but when he thought of his wife's cruel disposition, he earnestly wished her in other hands.
"Poor little thing! poor little thing!" he said, pityingly, and calling his own little boy and girl to him, he placed her trembling hands in theirs, adding: "Here is a sister for you, be kind to her, my children."
The daughter drew her hand away, and curled her lip in scorn. She was like her mother, proud and cold in her nature, and, looking at the coarse clothes of the child, she said: "Ah, no, papa, she is only fit for a servant. Sister, indeed!" and she shook the skirts of her pretty muslin dress, and ran away.
The boy felt the manhood dawning in his heart, as he saw the tears glistening in the pretty dark eyes of the silent child, and the little red lips quivered with suppressed emotion.
"She shall be my sister, papa," said he, softly, as he took her by the hand, and led her out in the clear sunshine. Children understand each other best, thought the old man, as he sat watching them, while they walked up and down the garden together, talking pleasantly.
Soon the mother's sharp eye detected them, and with a harsh voice she bade the little girl haste to the kitchen, and see if she could not help the cook prepare the supper.
Then she called the young Guilerme to her, saying: "I hope to make a rich señor of you, my son, though your father is only an innkeeper. We are making money, and every year increases our gains. There is good blood in my veins, and I am determined to raise my children above my present condition. For this I save every thing. Every thing! For we must have money; but remember, my son, I would not have you notice that miserable girl I have brought here for a servant; by and by she may do for your sister's maid; now she is the kitchen scullion."
Thus began the days of servitude and sorrow for the young Zaletta.
The inn was a spacious adobe house, with an open court in the center, and surrounded on all sides by a broad piazza. The kitchen and store-rooms were upon one side, while the receiving and sleeping rooms were on the other sides of the square.