After a few seconds spent in skulking across the lawn, we succeeded in placing ourselves within good viewing distance of one of the windows.
Inside we could see a table set with the paraphernalia of a feast. It appeared a rude piece of furniture; as did also the chairs that stood around it. So, also, were the plates, dishes, and drinking vessels that covered it: though in these we could perceive a grotesque commingling of the cheap and costly.
Common earthenware ollas, and carved bowls of calabash, stood side by side with goblets of silver, and bottles, whose tapering necks told of claret and champagne!
Tall wax candles, that looked as if they had been moulded for the service of the Church, were suspended in chandeliers of the pitahaya cactus, or held in cleft sticks—themselves stuck into the interstices of the slab table!
Only the drink had been as yet brought upon the board; though the meats could be scented from the cocina; while several brown-skinned, leathern-clad, “muchachos” were moving to and fro, with a hurried empressement that showed they were setting the supper.
It was evident that the two windows were in different apartments; the one opposite us being the sala de comida, or dining-room.
It was the sala grande, or drawing-room, I most desired to look into.
Not to listen to the music, or become a spectator to the dancing. Both had ceased some time before; and in their place we could now hear only a single voice—that of a man, who seemed to be speaking in a tone measured and solemn!
It required some strategy to get into position for looking through the second window. But it was worth the effort.
From the grand preparations in the dining-room, there should be corresponding company in the drawing-room? Was its quality alike heterogeneous?