I was again on the eve of resorting to the epistolary mode of communication—and had actually written the letter, intending to deliver it—not second-hand through the cochero, but, in propria persona, to the lady herself.
At each succeeding oraçion I watched for an opportunity; when the fair worshipper, passing out along with the crowd, might come within delivering distance.
Twice had I been disappointed. On the third time I had the chance, without taking advantage of it!
It was not needed. The wish I had expressed in my epistle was better worded by Mercedes herself. As she descended the steps on her way to the street, her lips came so close to my ear, that I was enabled to catch every syllable of that sweet whisper:
“En la Alameda. A seis horas!” (At six o’clock, in the Alameda!)
Chapter Twenty Two.
Appointment and Disappointment.
In most Mexican cities of the first and second class, there is both a “Paseo” and an “Alameda;” the former a public drive—riding included; the latter more especially set apart for pedestrians, though there is also a carriage way around it.