“Should you like to be married, senorita?”
“Yes, very much, señor.”
“And why, if you would satisfy my curiosity?”
“I don’t know.”
Equally unsatisfactory was the rest of the conversation. So we bowed politely, rose from our three-legged stool, and determined to seek an interview with the Superior. Our request was at last granted, and we found a personage admirably adapted, in point of appearance, to play dragon over the treasures committed to her charge. She had a face which reminded us exactly of a white horse, a body answerable, and manners decidedly repulsive. However, she did not spare her tongue. She informed us that there were twelve marriageable young ladies then in the establishment, named them, and minutely described their birth, parentage, education, mental and physiological development. She also informed us that they would receive a dowry from the funds of the house, which, on further inquiry, proved to be the sum of ten pounds.
At length we thought there was an opportunity to put in a few words about our grievance—how we had been placed on a three-legged stool before a grating—exposed to the inquisitiveness of the seniors, and subjected to the ridicule of the junior part of the community. We concluded with a modest hint that we should like to be admitted within, and be allowed a little conversation with the twelve marriageable young ladies to whom she had alluded.
The old lady suddenly became majestic.
“Before you are admitted to such a privilege, señor, you must be kind enough to address an official letter to the mesa, or board, explaining your intentions, and requesting the desired permission. We are people under government, and do not keep a naughty house. Do you understand me, señor?”
“Perfectly, madam.”