“You don’t surprise me,” responded young Don Antonio, who generally knew which way the ladies’ inclination turned. “Something of this I suspected too.”
“And I,” added Don Mariano.
(“Fool that I was!” growled Don Pablo; “all these butterflies saw it, and I never ventured to think of it! I looked on her as a priestess, a goddess—I never ventured to think of her in any other way. She was always so grand and grave; and Jacinta was so accessible.”)
“But, good evening, gentlemen! I shall really miss the opera, if I stand chatting any longer,” broke in Don Froilan.
They dispersed: Don Froilan bending his steps towards the opera, and the rest towards the ball-room. Meantime, sadly veiled in black, and attended by Ramon, the old and trusty family-servant, Isabella crossed the street, and entered the church as the last tolls were sounding.
“There she goes to pray for me—it is true enough!—while others are dancing!” exclaimed Don Pablo, rapturously. “But I’ll have my joke with Don Froilan yet.”
“Barber!” he cried, “send me a notary, quick! I’ve some important business which must be transacted instantly.”
“On the instant, your worship!” replied the barber. “There is one lodging, luckily, in the sixth floor of this very house.”
Ten minutes’ conference with the notary settled the affair. Then he bid him run with the paper to Don Froilan’s box at the theatre[5], and took up his station again at the window, to have the happiness of seeing Isabella once more as she came out of the church, and also to take the chance of enjoying the effect of the paper he had sent to Don Froilan. Nor did he wait long. In less time than he would have thought possible, Don Froilan came running out of the opera, hurrying to take his place at the funeral service, and give a public token of his attention to the deceased. But the doors were closed, and Don Pablo’s thoughts were diverted from her brother by the sight of Isabella, pale and haggard, her eyes worn with tears, coming out of the church, leaning on Ramon’s arm.
“What! is it too late?” cried Don Froilan, stumbling against her on the steps in the dark. “Oh dear, how hard! and I made such haste to come!”