Here a piece of paper, similarly put up, was held out for the inspection of the girl.
“Have you seen anything of it?”
“No, Señorita,” was the prompt and ready answer.
“Perhaps you may have swept it out, or thrown it into the fire? It looked insignificant, and, indeed, was not of much importance, but there were some patterns upon it I wished to copy. Do you think it has been destroyed?”
“I know not that, Señorita. I know that I did not destroy it. I neither swept it out nor threw it into the fire. I should not do that with any paper, as I cannot read myself, and might destroy something that was valuable.”
Whatever truth there was in the last part of her harangue, the mestiza knew that its earlier declarations were true enough. She had not destroyed it, either by sweeping out or burning.
Her answer was delivered with an ingenuous naïvété, accompanied with a slight accent of anger, as though she was not over-pleased at being suspected of negligence.
Whether her mistress noticed the latter did not appear from her answer, but she expressed herself satisfied.
“It is of no consequence, then,” said she. “You may go, Vicenza.”
The girl walked off, looking sulky. When her head was just disappearing below the top of the escalera, her face was towards her mistress, whose back was now turned to her. A scornful pouting of the lips, accompanied by a demoniac smile, was visible upon it. It was evident from that look that she knew something more of the lost paper than was admitted in her late declaration.