“Yes, I wish it, Pepita,” interposed Doña Luisa, herself the “Duena.”
“Muy bien Señorita. Into whose hands is it to be put?”
Though speaking direct to her own mistress, the interrogatory was more meant for the Condesa, between whose fingers and thumb she saw the thing she was to take charge of.
The answer to her query called for some consideration. The note was for Ruperto Rivas; but the girl knew him not; so how could she give it him?
Here was a difficulty not before thought of, for a time perplexing both the ladies. In this case Doña Luisa was the first to see a way out of it, saying in a whisper:—
“Let her give it to Florencio; she knows him, and he can—”
“Carramba!” exclaimed the Countess interrupting. “How wonderfully wise you are, amiga! The very thing! And it never occurred to me! No, you tell her what to do.”
“This, Pepita,” said her mistress, taking the crumpled sheet from the Condesa, and passing it to her maid, “this is to be delivered to a gentleman you’ve seen, and should know.”
“Where have I seen him, señorita?”
“In New Orleans.”