It was after midnight when the marquesa’s first tertulia came to an end. The lateness of the hour was unprecedented in the social annals of La Presa. It was only on those Saturday nights when the workmen received their bi-monthly pay that some of the Galician’s customers stayed out as late as that, and usually it was because they couldn’t get home.
All next day Sebastiana went about half asleep, and with lagging feet, for she had got up at dawn as usual, in spite of having stayed up the night before until the last guest had gone.
She stood on the balcony scolding one of the little half-breeds, who “with all her noise was going to wake up the mistress,” when suddenly she seemed to forget her anger, and stood, one hand over her eyes, peering at the street. A horse was rearing there, too abruptly reined in by his rider, who was quite carelessly waving a hand at the voluble house-keeper.
“Mi señorita ... I never know her with those clothes! How is my little one?”
And hastily she clambered down the steps and crossed the street to welcome Celinda Rojas.
Mistress and servant had not met since the day Sebastiana had left the ranch. Out of spite for don Rojas, the half-breed made haste to enumerate all the advantages of her new position.
“It’s a fine house I’m in, señorita mía! No offence to your own, of course. Money flows through it like water in the irrigation ditch. And the mistress is a fine gringa, they say she was born a marquesa over there in her country. The Italian fellow, they say too, is a demon with his workmen, but he seems half foolish over the señora marquesa, and he takes good care that she lacks for nothing. Last night we had a party with music. I thought of my pretty dove when I heard it, and I said to myself, ‘How my little mistress would love to hear this marquesa sing!’”
Celinda nodded as she listened, as though what she heard excited her curiosity, making her eager to hear more.
Meanwhile Sebastiana, so as further to impress her, went on to enumerate the guests who had been present at the party.
“Haven’t you forgotten someone?” the girl asked when Sebastiana came to a pause. “Wasn’t don Ricardo there, the young man who works with don Manuel, the engineer?”