Part 46

“There was but one angel,” objected her brunette cousin.

“That is true. The two old ones think themselves everything, but they are less than nothing. I would not change my years for theirs, with their jewels and their quarterings. Thanks be to God, in our Spain, we are all as noble as the nobles, or at least in this province!”

“You are also all beautiful!” said I.

“That you can say so, señor, after seeing that wonder!” exclaimed the landlord’s eldest daughter, a creature of carnation and flame. “Ah, the joy of it, we have been undressing her!”

“If you could have seen her, with gold hair down to her knees!” gasped a gypsy of fifteen. “And when we had got her dress off, and she was in her—”

“Hush, Micaela! it is not seemly that you should mention such garments in the presence of señores!” broke in the girl of the copper coronet.

NOW YOU ARE AS BAD AS I WAS, MARIQUITA

“But why, then, since they are most beautiful? You know well, Mariquita, you yourself said they were like the handwork of fairies, and her shoulders—”

“Be silent, foolish one, or I shall have to burn your nose off with the warming-pan!”

“And what did the elder ladies say to the young lady’s new maids?” I asked quickly, as great eyes began to flash, and scarlet lips to pout.

Back came the smiles, and the maidens fell into a fit of schoolgirl giggling.

“There was but one Majesty there, praise be to the saints, the English one, who is no doubt the mother of our lady angel. They have two rooms between them, but that of the señorita is tiny, with no door of its own, and only a square glazed hole for a window, though the bed is as good as any, and we have given it the best linen. When we took in the warming-pan, our angel tried to say in Spanish that she was sure our beds were dry and well aired, as indeed they were. She had taken off her bodice, and was undoing her hair, which was so beautiful we could have fallen down and prayed to her as a saint. Then we could not resist, but began helping her to undress, talking about her beauty. She was not offended, though we kissed her hands, and that silly Micaela one of her tiny white feet when we had pulled off the stocking—”

“Now you are as bad as I was, Mariquita.”

“No, indeed; what is a stocking? A thing it is as well to go without as to wear. That is different. The angel laughed till she was close to tears, and said we were far nicer maids than the one her mother had sent on by railway train in starting by automobile. After this, she would be spoiled for others; and she gave us each one a present. Lola, two wondrous hatpins with blue stones in silver—not that she would ever suffer the tortures of a hat, but it is a great thing to have them. Teresa, a sweet round purse of blue leather, of the size to hold a five peseta piece; Micaela, a handkerchief with lace on the edge, and me an embroidered veil like a gossamer. What did we care that Her Majesty the mother would have sent us away if she could? She had not enough Spanish to make us understand what we did not wish to understand, and at last she saved her breath for another day. But by that time we had finished, for we had put our angel into her night-dress, a thing of cobwebs and lace kept together by blue ribbons, which I should have thought good enough for a queen to wear when mounting her throne.”

“You must show us your presents,” said I, with deliberate cunning. All were displayed on the instant, with chattering, laughing, and clamourous claims for rival merits. But the veil was the thing which I looked on to covet. She had worn it one day after rain, when the roads had been clear of dust, and her face had gleamed through the lace as a star gleams through a floating cloud-film. I felt that I could not see it in other hands than mine.

While the Cherub compared the gifts with eloquence, I drew Mariquita apart. “I want that veil very much,” said I; “so much that I’ll give you a hundred pesetas if you’ll part with it.”

She opened her tobacco-brown eyes. “But the señor is only a man, and cannot know that the bit of embroidered net is worth no more, in money, than fifteen pesetas at most.”

“It wasn’t its money-worth I was thinking about.”

“A—ah, I see! The señorito—yes, of course, it would be strange if he did not! I love my new veil, not only because it is pretty, but more because it came to me from the most beautiful señorita I have ever seen. Still, since the señorito will value it even more than I can, I will give it to him, though not for the hundred pesetas. I will give it for nothing except his thanks.”

I told the girl she was too good; that I could not rob her of the gift just made; but she insisted, and I saw that her pride would be hurt if I refused. So I accepted, while a way of benefitting myself and rewarding her occurred to my mind.

“You see how it is with me.” I said, with a confidential air. “You have been very generous. Will you be helpful too?”

“You may trust me,” she answered. “I love a love affair, especially if there is difficulty. I shall have an acknowledged novio myself soon, I hope. He is a bull-fighter—only a beginner, but he will be great one day, and though my father made a long face at first, now he shrugs his shoulders; and when that is done, there is always hope. Her Majesty the mother makes the long face, does she not?”

I nodded.

“She will shrug the shoulders by and by.”

“I doubt it. But meanwhile, I’ve written a letter. Will you try to give it to the young lady?”

“Yes,” said Mariquita. “I will try my best. I think I can do it. Not to-night, for she has gone to bed, and there would be no excuse to get back to her room, since I must pass through Her Majesty’s. But to-morrow morning I will take the ladies’ hot water, with oh, such an innocent face! And I will take the letter too.”

“Thank you many times,” said I.

“The thing isn’t done yet.”