"See, Belle! Cubans; own half the island between them. Splendid, aren't
they? Look at the diamonds on her lovely arms, and his ravishing
moustache. Isn't he your ideal of Prince Djalma, in The Wandering Jew?"

A pretty girl, forgetting propriety in interest, pointed as they passed.
Manuel half-bowed to the audible compliment, and the blushing damsel
vanished, but Pauline had not seen.

"Jack, there's the owner of the black span you fell into raptures over.
My lord and lady look as highbred as their stud. We'll patronize them!"

Manuel muttered a disdainful "_Impertinente!_" between his teeth as he
surveyed a brace of dandies with an air that augured ill for the
patronage of Young America, but Pauline was unconscious of both
criticism and reproof. A countercurrent held them stationary for a
moment, and close behind them sounded a voice saying, confidentially, to
some silent listener, "The Redmonds are here tonight, and I am curious
to see how he bears his disappointment. You know he married for money,
and was outwitted in the bargain; for his wife's fortune not only proves
to be much less than he was led to believe, but is so tied up that he is
entirely dependent upon her, and the bachelor debts he sold himself to
liquidate still harass him, with a wife's reproaches to augment the
affliction. To be ruled by a spoiled child's whims is a fit punishment
for a man whom neither pride nor principle could curb before. Let us go
and look at the unfortunate."

Pauline heard now. Manuel felt her start, saw her flush and pale, then
her eye lit, and the dark expression he dreaded to see settled on her
face as she whispered, like a satanic echo, "Let us also go and look at
this unfortunate."