now; stupid old Juan Can so absorbed in relish of his gossip, that he noticed nothing.
“Ay, ay. So I said,” he went on; “and so it was. There be such saints, you know; though the Lord knows if she had been minded to give shelter to all her husband's bastards, she might have taken lease of a church to hold them. But there was a story about a man's coming with this infant and leaving it in the Señora's room; and she, poor lady, never having had a child of her own, did warm to it at first sight, and kept it with her to the last; and I wager me, a hard time she had to get our Señora to take the child when she died; except that it was to spite Ortegna, I think our Señora would as soon the child had been dead.”
“Has she not treated her kindly?” asked Alessandro, in a husky voice.
Juan Can's pride resented this question. “Do you suppose the Señora Moreno would do an unkindness to one under her roof?” he asked loftily. “The Señorita has been always, in all things, like Señor Felipe himself. It was so that she promised the Señora Ortegna, I have heard.”
“Does the Señorita know all this?” asked Alessandro.
Juan Can crossed himself. “Saints save us, no!” he exclaimed. “I'll not forget, to my longest day, what it cost me, once I spoke in her hearing, when she was yet small. I did not know she heard; but she went to the Señora, asking who was her mother. And she said I had said her mother was no good, which in faith I did, and no wonder. And the Señora came to me, and said she, 'Juan Canito, you have been a long time in our house; but if ever I hear of your mentioning aught concerning the Señorita Ramona, on this estate or anywhere else in the country, that day you leave my service!'—And you'd not do me the ill-turn to speak of it, Alessandro, now?” said
