AMPARITO
While they were talking an automobile horn was heard, and a little later Don Calixto’s niece entered the drawing-room.
This was Amparito, the flat-faced girl with black eyes, of whom Cæsar had spoken to Alzugaray. Her father accompanied her.
The priest patted the girl’s cheeks.
Her father was a clumsy man, red, sunburned, with the face of a contractor or a miner.
The girl took off her cap and the veil she wore in the automobile, and seated herself between Don Calixto’s daughters. Alzugaray looked her over. Amparito really was attractive; she had a short nose, bright black eyes, red lips too thick, white teeth, and smooth cheeks. She wore her hair down, in ringlets; but in spite of her infantile get-up, one saw that she was already a woman.
“Cæsar is right; this is quite a lively girl,” murmured Alzugaray.
The mayor’s son now arrived, and his sister. He was an insignificant little gentleman, mild and courteous; he had studied law at Salamanca, and it seemed that he had certain intentions about Don Calixto’s second daughter.
All the guests being assembled, the master of the house said that, since nobody was missing and it was time, they might pass into the gallery, where the table was set.
At one end the lady of the house seated herself, having the priest on one side and the judge on the other; at the other end, Don Calixto, between the judge’s wife and the mayor’s daughter. Cæsar had a seat assigned between Don Calixto’s elder daughter and Amparito, and Alzugaray one between the second daughter and the judge’s girl.