"Perhaps I ought to have told you," he said blandly, "that the old Spanish notions of etiquette are very strict.The wives of the officials and higher classes do not meet strangers on a first visit, unless they are well known.""That isn't it," said Winslow, joining them excitedly."I've heard the whole story.It's a good joke.Banks has been bragging about us all, and saying that these ladies had husbands who were great merchants, and, as these chaps consider that all trade is vulgar, you know, they believe we are not fit to associate with their women, don't you see? All, except one--Miss Keene.She's considered all right.She's to be introduced to the Commander's women, and to the sister of the Alcalde.""She will do nothing of the kind," said Miss Keene indignantly.
"If these ladies are not to be received with me, we'll all go back to the ship together."She spoke with a quick and perfectly unexpected resolution and independence, so foreign to her usual childlike half dependent character, that her hearers were astounded.Senor Perkins gazed at her thoughtfully; Brace, Crosby, and Winslow admiringly; her sister passengers with doubt and apprehension.
"There must he some mistake," said Senor Perkins gently."I will inquire."He was absent but a few moments.When he returned, his face was beaming.
"It's a ridiculous misapprehension.Our practical friend Banks, in his zealous attempts to impress the Comandante's secretary, who knows a little English, with the importance of Mr.Brimmer's position as a large commission merchant, has, I fear, conveyed only the idea that he was a kind of pawnbroker; while Mr.Markham's trade in hides has established him as a tanner; and Mr.Banks' own flour speculations, of which he is justly proud, have been misinterpreted by him as the work of a successful baker!""And what idea did he convey about YOU?" asked Crosby audaciously;"it might be interesting to us to know, for our own satisfaction.""I fear they did not do me the honor to inquire," replied Senor Perkins, with imperturbable good-humor; "there are some persons, you know, who carry all their worldly possessions palpably about with them.I am one of them.Call me a citizen of the world, with a strong leniency towards young and struggling nationalities; a traveler, at home anywhere; a delighted observer of all things, an admirer of brave men, the devoted slave of charming women--and you have, in one word, a passenger of the good ship Excelsior."For the first time, Miss Keene noticed a slight irony in Senor Perkins' superabundant fluency, and that he did not conceal his preoccupation over the silent saluting gun he was still admiring.
The approach of Don Miguel and Padre Esteban with a small bevy of ladies, however, quickly changed her thoughts, and detached the Senor from her side.Her first swift feminine impression of the fair strangers was that they were plain and dowdy, an impression fully shared by the other lady passengers.But her second observation, that they were more gentle, fascinating, child-like, and feminine than her own countrywomen, was purely her own.Their loose, undulating figures, guiltless of stays; their extravagance of short, white, heavily flounced skirt, which looked like a petticoat; their lightly wrapped, formless, and hooded shoulders and heads, lent a suggestion of dishabille that Mrs.Brimmer at once resented.
"They might, at least, have dressed themselves," she whispered to Mrs.Markham.
"I really believe," returned Mrs.Markham, "they've got no bodices on!"The introductions over, a polyglot conversation ensued in French by the Padre and Mrs.Brimmer, and in broken English by Miss Chubb, Miss Keene, and the other passengers with the Commander's secretary, varied by occasional scraps of college Latin from Mr.
Crosby, the whole aided by occasional appeals to Senor Perkins.
The darkness increasing, the party reentered the courtyard, and, passing through the low-studded guard-room, entered another corridor, which looked upon a second court, enclosed on three sides, the fourth opening upon a broad plaza, evidently the public resort of the little town.Encompassing this open space, a few red-tiled roofs could be faintly seen in the gathering gloom.
Chocolate and thin spiced cakes were served in the veranda, pending the preparations for a more formal banquet.Already Miss Keene had been singled out from her companions for the special attentions of her hosts, male and female, to her embarrassment and confusion.
Already Dona Isabel, the sister of the Alcalde, had drawn her aside, and, with caressing frankness, had begun to question her in broken English,--"But Miss Keene is no name.The Dona Keene is of nothing.""Well, you may call me Eleanor, if you like," said Miss Keene, smiling.
"Dona Leonor--so; that is good," said Dona Isabel, clapping her hands like a child."But how are you?""I beg your pardon," said Miss Keene, greatly amused, "but I don't understand.""Ah, Caramba! What are you, little one?" Seeing that her guest still looked puzzled, she continued,--"Ah! Mother of God! Why are your friends so polite to you? Why does every one love you so?""Do they? Well," stammered Miss Keene, with one of her rare, dazzling smiles, and her cheeks girlishly rosy with naive embarrassment, "I suppose they think I am pretty.""Pretty! Ah, yes, you are!" said Dona Isabel, gazing at her curiously."But it is not all that.""What is it, then?" asked Miss Keene demurely.
"You are a--a--Dama de Grandeza!"
