“Oh! an engagement!”
“Yes, sir, an engagement,” she repeats, in a tone telling of irritation. “Those gentlemen you see are our guests. My father has invited them to spend the day with us.”
“Ah! your father has invited them! How very good of Don Gregorio Montijo, extending his hospitality to gringos! And Doña Carmen has added her kind compliments with earnest entreaties for them to come, no doubt?”
“Sir!” says Carmen, no longer able to conceal her indignation, “your speech is impertinent—insulting. I shall listen to it no longer.”
Saying which, she steps back, disappearing behind the parapet—where Iñez has already concealed herself, at the close of a similar short, but stormy, dialogue with Calderon.
De Lara, a lurid look in his eyes, sits in his saddle as if in a stupor. He is roused from it by a voice, Crozier’s, saying:
“You appear anxious to make apology to the lady? You can make it to me.”
“Caraji!” exclaims the gambler, starting, and glaring angrily at the speaker. “Who are you?”
“One who demands an apology for your very indecorous behaviour.”
“You’ll not get it.”