The baron then came forward, and, politely holding her fingers, said in Spanish, “I hope that the Señorita and Señora Gonzales are quite well, as who should not be in this Italy of rare delights?”
“Oh, Italy! that is the home of my parteekler friend. He paint Italia, he sing Italia, and he make me promise for go many times.”
“That settles it,” Morning muttered sententiously, but no one heard.
Then the conversation became general, the baroness commenting kindly upon the encroachments upon the time of the señorita in receiving curious visitors.
“Oh,” retorted Murella with pretty nonchalance, “I no care! I lofe amuse myself,” leading the way to the main saloon. “I haf always parteekler frent, same as baroness, ess it not?” and she sank indolently into the cushioned depths of a primrose sofa, waving the baroness to a place beside her, and leaving the party to make choice of seats.
A glance at the original design and superb appointments of this interior suggested the incongruity of hammocks and ollas, yet here they were many times repeated, for “ice is the devil’s nectar,” runs a Spanish proverb, and the olla has no rival save the mescal jug.
Every well-to-do Mexican family keeps beneath its roof a corps of female retainers, who are neither servants nor guests, but something between the two. They dine—except on occasions—at the family board, and mingle always at the family gathering, but they assist in the household labors, and sometimes, though not often, receive a stated money compensation. They are usually relatives, more or less distant, of the mistress of the household. The beautiful casa and great wealth of the Gonzales family had nearly depopulated the neighboring Mexican State of Sonora of all the needy Alvarados who could claim kinship with the Donna Maria, and a dozen of these señoritas now appeared shyly at the doors, their mantillas closely drawn, though the day was warm, and many voices and excellent music were heard from all quarters of the house and grounds.
After a few moments the Señora Gonzales, with her brother, Don Manuel Alvarado, who acted as major-domo of the estate, were presented, but the señora soon glided away unobserved, leaving her brother to the honors of guide over the mansion.
“You are very beautiful,” spoke Murella with apparent naiveté, as they arose to follow the party who had preceded them.
The smile of the baroness was tinged with bitterness as she turned to look into the Madonna face beside her, and ventured to reply.