“But it was for us that you sent for it, Alessandro; the Señora would rather pay the messenger herself.”
“It is paid, Señorita. It is nothing. If the Señor Felipe wishes to hear the violin, I will play;” and Alessandro walked slowly away.
Ramona gazed after him. For the first time, she looked at him with no thought of his being an Indian,—a thought there had surely been no need of her having, since his skin was not a shade darker than Felipe's; but so strong was the race feeling, that never till that moment had she forgotten it.
“What a superb head, and what a walk!” she thought. Then, looking more observantly, she said: “He walks as if he were offended. He did not like my offering to pay for the messenger. He wanted to do it for dear Felipe. I will tell Felipe, and we will give him some present when he goes away.”
“Isn't he splendid, Señorita?” came in a light laughing tone from Margarita's lips close to her ear, in the fond freedom of their relation. “Isn't he splendid? And oh, Señorita, you can't think how he dances! Last year I danced with him every night; he has wings on his feet, for all he is so tall and big.”
There was a coquettish consciousness in the girl's tone, that was suddenly, for some unexplained reason, exceedingly displeasing to Ramona. Drawing herself away, she spoke to Margarita in a tone she had never before in her life used. “It is not fitting to speak like that about young men. The Señora would be displeased if she heard you,” she said, and walked swiftly away leaving poor Margarita as astounded as if she had got a box on the ear.
She looked after Ramona's retreating figure, then after Alessandro's. She had heard them talking together just before she came up. Thoroughly bewildered and puzzled, she stood motionless for several seconds, reflecting; then, shaking her head, she ran
