“Now, really!” said Don Mariano, “I thought you were going to say that you had come out to attend the funeral service for your friend Don Pablo——”
(“Ah, yes, that would have been more like a friend!” sighed Don Pablo.)
“A—a—funeral service? no—no, I’m not fond of that sort of thing, it’s so melancholy! And then what’s the use—if the fellow died, as I’ve no doubt he did, without so much as saying an ‘Our Father,’ what’s the use of praying for him?”
(“The atrocious calumny!” exclaimed Don Pablo; “and not one of them to say a word in my defence!”)
An awkward pause ensued, which was broken by the gallant young Don Antonio: “And while we are wasting our time here, your sisters are dancing away and charming every one, as usual!”
(“Dancing away while the church bells are tolling for poor me!”)
“My sisters—eh? No—o, not exactly; that is, only one of them. Jacinta is dancing, of course; but Isabella—a—won’t—a—come in. I believe she’s gone to the church instead.”
(“So, indeed, there’s one of them at least who hasn’t forgotten me! And one, too, whose remembrance is more worth having than all the others’ put together!”)
“Indeed!” replied Don Lupercio; “but I thought it was the other sister who had been more attached to him.”
“Attached? ah, yes—in one way; that is, she was engaged to him; but as to attachment, that is, of the heart—between you and me—it was Isabella who cared for him. Jacinta, you see, only wanted to be married, and Don Matias will do just as well for that—ha, ha, ha!”