“At any moment. He’s been gone many hours ago. I was watching for him when you came up—yonder on the Tacubaya Road. I see nothing of him yet, but he may have passed while we’ve been talking.”
“Muy amiga mia! How much our doings this day have been alike. I, too, have despatched a messenger to find out all about Ruperto, and am now awaiting his return. I ran across to tell you of it. And now that we’re together let us stay till we know the worst or the best. God help us both; for, to make use of the phrase I’ve heard among marineros, we’re ‘both in the same boat.’ What is this?” she added, stooping, and taking up the gilded card which had been all the while lying upon the floor. “Oh, indeed! Invitation to an airing in one of the State carriages—with such a pretty compliment appended! How free El Excellentissimo is with his flattery. For myself I detest both him and it. You’ll go, won’t you?”
“I don’t wish it.”
“No matter about wishing; I want you. And so will your father, I’m sure.”
“But why do you want me?”
“Why, so that you may take me with you.”
“I would rather wait till I hear what father says.”
“That’s all I ask, amiga. I shall be contented with his dictum, now feeling sure—”
She was interrupted by the pattering of feet upon the stone stairway; two pairs of them, which told that two individuals were ascending. The heavy tread proclaimed them to be men. Presently their faces showed over the baluster rail, and another step brought them upon the roof. Both ladies regarding them with looks of eager inquiry, glided down out of the mirador to meet them.
For they were the two messengers that had been despatched separately, though on errands so very similar.