“Nay, further, Señorita!” cried Vizcarra; “I have another favour to ask,—a light for my cigar? Here, take the cup! See! the coin is no longer in it! You will pardon me for having offered it?”
Vizcarra saw that she was offended, and by this apology endeavoured to appease her.
She received the gourd-shell from his hands, and then went back to the house to bring him the light he had asked for.
Presently she reappeared with some red coals upon a small “brazero.”
On reaching the gate she was surprised to see that the officer had dismounted, and was fastening his horse to a stake.
As she offered him the brazero, he remarked, “I am wearied with my ride; may I beg, Señorita, you will allow me a few minutes’ shelter from the hot sun?”
Though annoyed at this request, the girl could only reply in the affirmative; and the next moment, with clattering spur and clanking sabre, the Comandante walked into the rancho.
Rosita followed him in without a word, and without a word he was received by her mother, who, seated in the corner, took no notice of his entrance, not even by looking up at him. The dog made a circuit around him, growling angrily, but his young mistress chided him off; and the brute once more couched himself upon a petaté, and lay with eyes gleaming fiercely at the intruder.
Once in the house, Vizcarra did not feel easy. He saw he was not welcome. Not a word of welcome had been uttered by Rosita, and not a sign of it offered either by the old woman or the dog. The contrary symptoms were unmistakeable, and the grand officer felt he was an intruder.
But Vizcarra was not accustomed to care much for the feelings of people like these. He paid but little regard to their likes or dislikes, especially where these interfered with his pleasures; and, after lighting his cigar, he sat down on a “banqueta,” with as much nonchalance as if he were in his own quarters. He smoked some time without breaking silence.