“Doubtless, Señor Don Lorenzo, you have frequently accused me of ingratitude and forgetfulness: but on the word of a virgin, it was out of my power to perform my promise yesterday. I know not in what words to inform you how strange a reception my sister gave your kind wish to visit her. She is an odd woman, with many good points about her; but her jealousy of me frequently makes her conceive notions quite unaccountable. On hearing that your friend had paid some little attention to me, she immediately took the alarm: she blamed my conduct, and has absolutely forbidden me to let you know our abode. My strong sense of gratitude for your kind offers of service, and … Shall I confess it? my desire to behold once more the too amiable Don Christoval, will not permit my obeying her injunctions. I have therefore stolen a moment to inform you, that we lodge in the Strada di San Iago, four doors from the Palace d’Albornos, and nearly opposite to the barber’s Miguel Coello. Enquire for Donna Elvira Dalfa, since in compliance with her father-in-law’s order, my sister continues to be called by her maiden name. At eight this evening you will be sure of finding us: but let not a word drop which may raise a suspicion of my having written this letter. Should you see the Condé d’Ossorio, tell him … I blush while I declare it … Tell him that his presence will be but too acceptable to the sympathetic
The latter sentences were written in red ink, to express the blushes of her cheek, while she committed an outrage upon her virgin modesty.
Lorenzo had no sooner perused this note than he set out in search of Don Christoval. Not being able to find him in the course of the day, he proceeded to Donna Elvira’s alone, to Leonella’s infinite disappointment. The domestic by whom he sent up his name, having already declared his lady to be at home, she had no excuse for refusing his visit: yet she consented to receive it with much reluctance. That reluctance was increased by the changes which his approach produced in Antonia’s countenance; nor was it by any means abated when the youth himself appeared. The symmetry of his person, animation of his features, and natural elegance of his manners and address, convinced Elvira that such a guest must be dangerous for her daughter. She resolved to treat him with distant politeness, to decline his services with gratitude for the tender of them, and to make him feel, without offence, that his future visits would be far from acceptable.
On his entrance he found Elvira, who was indisposed, reclining upon a sofa: Antonia sat by her embroidery frame, and Leonella, in a pastoral dress, held Montemayor’s Diana. In spite of her being the mother of Antonia, Lorenzo could not help expecting to find in Elvira Leonella’s true sister, and the daughter of “as honest a painstaking shoemaker, as any in Cordova.” A single glance was sufficient to undeceive him. He beheld a woman whose features, though impaired by time and sorrow, still bore the marks of distinguished beauty: a serious dignity reigned upon her countenance, but was tempered by a grace and sweetness which rendered her truly enchanting. Lorenzo fancied that she must have resembled her daughter in her youth, and readily excused the imprudence of the late Condé de las Cisternas. She desired him to be seated, and immediately resumed her place upon the sofa.
Antonia received him with a simple reverence, and continued her work: her cheeks were suffused with crimson, and she strove to conceal her emotion by leaning over her embroidery frame. Her aunt also chose to play off her airs of modesty; she affected to blush and tremble, and waited with her eyes cast down to receive, as she expected, the compliments of Don Christoval. Finding after some time that no sign of his approach was given, she ventured to look round the room, and perceived with vexation that Medina was unaccompanied. Impatience would not permit her waiting for an explanation: interrupting Lorenzo, who was delivering Raymond’s message, she desired to know what was become of his friend.
He, who thought it necessary to maintain himself in her good graces, strove to console her under her disappointment by committing a little violence upon truth.
“Ah! Señora,” he replied in a melancholy voice, “how grieved will he be at losing this opportunity of paying you his respects! A relation’s illness has obliged him to quit Madrid in haste: but on his return, he will doubtless seize the first moment with transport to throw himself at your feet!”
As he said this, his eyes met those of Elvira: she punished his falsehood sufficiently by darting at him a look expressive of displeasure and reproach. Neither did the deceit answer his intention. Vexed and disappointed Leonella rose from her seat, and retired in dudgeon to her own apartment.
Lorenzo hastened to repair the fault, which had injured him in Elvira’s opinion. He related his conversation with the Marquis respecting her: he assured her that Raymond was prepared to acknowledge her for his brother’s widow; and that till it was in his power to pay his compliments to her in person, Lorenzo was commissioned to supply his place. This intelligence relieved Elvira from an heavy weight of uneasiness: she had now found a protector for the fatherless Antonia, for whose future fortunes she had suffered the greatest apprehensions. She was not sparing of her thanks to him who had interfered so generously in her behalf; but still she gave him no invitation to repeat his visit.
However, when upon rising to depart he requested permission to enquire after her health occasionally, the polite earnestness of his manner, gratitude for his services, and respect for his friend the Marquis, would not admit of a refusal. She consented reluctantly
