Manuel Villasante.
"I was distinctly annoyed.
"'Pardon this intrusion, Senor,' he said courteously, 'also what I may have said to you this afternoon. I was excited—distressed—wounded to the heart! Perhaps I forgot myself. Let us forget it all, and be good friends once more,' and he held out his hand with a smile. I took it. There was something very winning about the fellow, and he made me feel sorry and ashamed. Somehow all the blame shifted over to me. We shook hands warmly.
"'Now,' he said, 'you are the bon comrade I knew at Saratoga. Let it always be so. My father and sister are waiting below and long to see you. Perhaps you will dine with us? We will consider ourselves fortunate.'
"We went down to the parlors and found Mercedes and her father. She was as beautiful as ever, and the old fellow was the same courtly, polished man of the world as of yore; a little grayer and more rat-like, perhaps, but showing no other signs of advancing age. Mercedes was a trifle more plump than when I last saw her, but not unbecomingly so. What a magnificent creature she was!