"You are very young," he remarked, to begin with. "The matters on which I desired to converse with you are very grave."
"I was under the impression that your Excellency wished to see me at once. But if your Excellency prefers it I will return in, say, seven years' time when I may perhaps be old enough to talk about grave matters."
He didn't stir hand or foot and not even the quiver of an eyelid proved that he had heard my shockingly unbecoming retort.
"You have been recommended to us by a noble and loyal lady, in whom His Majesty--whom God preserve--reposes an entire confidence. God will reward her as she deserves and you, too, Senor, according to the disposition you bring to this great work which has the blessing (here he crossed himself) of our Holy Mother the Church."
"I suppose your Excellency understands that in all this I am not looking for reward of any kind."
At this he made a faint, almost ethereal grimace.
"I was speaking of the spiritual blessing which rewards the service of religion and will be of benefit to your soul," he explained with a slight touch of acidity. "The other is perfectly understood and your fidelity is taken for granted. His Majesty--whom God preserve--has been already pleased to signify his satisfaction with your services to the most noble and loyal Dona Rita by a letter in his own hand."
Perhaps he expected me to acknowledge this announcement in some way, speech, or bow, or something, because before my immobility he made a slight movement in his chair which smacked of impatience. "I am afraid, Senor,
