A Woman’s Scheme.
“My poor Ruperto is indeed in danger! Now I am sure of it. Ah, even to his life! And I may be the cause of his losing it.”
So spoke the Countess Almonté half in soliloquy, though beside her sat her friend Luisa Valverde. They were in a carriage on return from their fruitless visit to the Dictator. It was the Countess’ own landau which had remained waiting for them outside the Palace gates.
The other, absorbed with her own anxieties, might not have noticed what was said but for its nature. This, being in correspondence with what was at the moment in her own mind, caught her ear, almost making her start. For she, too, was thinking of a life endangered, and how much that danger might be due to herself. It was not poor Ruperto’s life, but poor Florencio’s.
“You the cause, Ysabel!” she said, not in surprise, save at the similarity of their thoughts. “Ah! yes; I think I comprehend you.”
“If not, amiga, don’t ask explanation of it now. It’s a hateful thing, and I dislike to think, much more speak of it. Some other time I’ll tell you all. Now we’ve work to do—a task that will take all our energies—all our cunning to accomplish it. However is it to be done? Valga me Dios!”
To her interrogatory she did not expect reply. And the desponding look of Luisa Valverde showed she had none to give that would be satisfactory; for she quite understood what was the task spoken of, and equally comprehended the difficulty of its accomplishment. Perplexed as the Countess herself, and possibly more despairing, she could but echo the exclamatory words—
“How indeed! Valga me Dios.”
For a while they sat without further exchange of speech, both buried in thought. Not long, however, when the Countess again spoke, saying—
“You’re not good at dissembling, Luisita; I wish you were.”