"Those legends are sanctioned by the Church, Lola," said Doña Constancia, "and so it is very right that you should read them, but you have no need to tell Padre Jacinto what Marcelino says about them."
"Or about him either," said Dolores. "Marcelino says that if he had a house of his own he would never allow a padre to come inside his doors."
"Those are the French ideas that Marcelino has learnt from Don Carlos Evaña," said Doña Constancia sadly. "He will learn better some day."
"But nearly all the young men who are at all clever have just the same ideas, mamma," replied Dolores. "Don Carlos would not speak to a priest, and used to say all kinds of things about them. Padre Jacinto says that if they talk that way and never go to Mass they will never go to heaven when they die, but for my part, if it is only men like Padre Jacinto can go to heaven, I would rather go—somewhere else with Marcelino."
"Hush, Dolores! you do not know what you are saying," said Doña Constancia. "It is getting so dark that I can hardly see to work any longer. Let us walk down the road a little, Marcelino is late this evening."
"Papa said he would try and come out this evening, so I suppose Marcelino has waited for him," said Dolores.
Doña Constancia wore an immense tortoise-shell comb at the back of her head, secured in the thick folds of her luxuriant hair, over this she threw a light shawl of black lace, the ends of which she brought forward over her shoulders. This was the "mantilla," a style of head-dress which suited well the stately beauty and graceful figure of Doña Constancia. Her daughter threw a similar light shawl over her head, but she wore no comb, and her hair, arranged in large plaits, formed a golden background to the interlaced flowers and leaves of black silk which made up the gossamer-like web which she used as a head-covering.
"If your Padre Jacinto could read English I do not think he would object to Dolores reading 'Evelina,' Doña Constancia," said Gordon, as they walked down the road side by side. "My sisters have both read it, and were delighted with it. In fact the book is a present to me from one of them."
"But then he cannot read English. What is it about?" asked Dolores.
"It is about a young English lady, who was brought up very quietly in the country, and describes what she saw and felt in London when she went there for the first time, and about the balls and theatres she went to."