There was Antón Pérez; Rosalba would be the incentive.
“Paulina! Paulina!” she called, and a servant appeared.
“Run, at once, to the barracks; ask for Lieutenant Pérez, and urge him, from me, to come here immediately.”
Pauline departed, encountered Antón, and gave the message; the lieutenant shrugged his shoulders and replied, with evident dislike:
“I will come presently: I am busy, now.”
No more than five minutes had elapsed, when the servant returned with new and more urgent summons to Antón, who displayed no more interest than before, responding abruptly:
“I will come.”
Doña Socorro was dying with impatience; the moments seemed like hours to her and she paced restlessly to and from the door anxious for Antón’s coming; but, he came not.
Tired of waiting, she resolutely entered her room, threw a rebozo over her shoulders, and went directly to the door of the barracks. Without her having to announce herself, a soldier ran to give notice to the lieutenant of the presence of the lady; this time, unable to escape, he advanced to the encounter.
Doña Socorro, plainly desirous of losing no time, threw aside her natural pride, and without a word of reproach to Antón, said, with affected surprise: