Gomez' muchacha to understand a proposal."

When the laugh was over, and the sparks of the cigarette, cleverly
whipped out of the speaker's lips by Faquita's fan, had disappeared
in the darkness, she resumed, pettishly, "I know not what you call
it when he kissed her hand and held it to his heart."

"Judas!" gasped Pereo. "But," he added, feverishly, "she, the Dona
Maria, thy mistress, SHE summoned thee at once to call me to cast
out this dust into the open air; thou didst fly to her assistance?
What! thou sawest this, and did nothing--eh?" He stopped, and
tried to peer into the girl's face. "No! Ah, I see; I am an old
fool. Yes; it was Maruja's own mother that stood there. He! he!
he!" he laughed piteously; "and she smiled and smiled and broke the
coward's heart, as Maruja might. And when he was gone, she bade
thee bring her water to wash the filthy Judas stain from her hand."

"Santa Ana!" said Faquita, shrugging her shoulders. "She did what
the veriest muchacha would have done. When he had gone, she sat
down and cried."

The old man drew back a step, and steadied himself by the table.
Then, with a certain tremulous audacity, he began: "So! that is all
you have to tell--nothing! Bah! A lazy slut sleeps at her duty,
and dreams behind a curtain! Yes, dreams!--you understand--dreams!
And for this she leaves her occupations, and comes to gossip here!
Come," he continued, steadily working himself into a passion,
"come, enough of this! Get you gone!--you, and Pepita, and
Andreas, and Victor--all of you--back to your duty. Away! Am I
not master here? Off! I say!"