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"What is it that you don't understand, Cesare?" she asked. "Some infernal joke or foolishness!" "It is no joke, signore," Mochales responded; "and it is better, perhaps, for your wife to leave us." Orsi turned to Lavinia. "He gives me back this necklace of Gheta's," he explained; "he says that he has every right.
Mochales stood very close to her sister, speaking seriously, while Gheta nervously fingered the short veil hanging from her gay straw hat. A familiar kindly voice sounded suddenly in Lavinia's ears, and Cesare Orsi joined her. He was about to move forward toward Gheta; but, before he could attract her attention, she disappeared in the crowd with the Spaniard. "Who was it?" he inquired.
The Flower of Spain inhaled a deep breath of smoke, which he expelled in deliberate globes. "Oh, don't! Oh " Lavinia exclaimed, an arm before her eyes. Mochales shifted easily from his seat and apparently in the same instant the bull crushed the stool to splinters. "Bravo! Bravo!" Anna Mantegazza called again, and the man bowed until his extended hat rested on the ground.
Then she became easier; spurred partly by Gheta's direct unpleasantness and partly by the consciousness of her becoming appearance, she retorted with spirit; engaged Pier Mantegazza in a duet of verbal confetti. She gazed challengingly at Abrego y Mochales, but got no other answer than a grave perfunctory inclination.
A possibility suddenly filled her with dread it was evident that the Spaniard was growing hourly more absorbed in Gheta, and the latter might Lavinia could not support the possibility of Abrego y Mochales married to her sister.
Do you remember, we heard it at the Pergola in the winter?" "Do go over to her," Lavinia whispered. He rose heavily and went to Gheta's side, and Lavinia waited expectantly for Mochales to change too. The Spaniard shifted, but it was toward the piano, where he stood with the rosy reflection of his cigarette on a moody countenance.
Anna Mantegazza was laughing at a puzzled expression on the good-natured countenance of Cesare Orsi; Gheta was slowly waving a fan of gilded feathers; Abrego y Mochales was standing rigid and somberly handsome; and, as usual, Pier Mantegazza was late.
Abrego y Mochales stood easily above, watching these clumsy efforts. Suddenly the bull stopped, plunged his front hoofs into the soft mold of the stable yard and swept his head from side to side with a broken hoarse bellow. The men prodded him with urgent cries; but the bull suddenly whirled, snapping the poles, and there was an immediate scattering.
It appears that Gheta is going to marry him, and he already objects to presents from her brother-in-law." "But what stuff!" Lavinia pronounced. A swift surprise overtook her at Cesare's announcement Gheta and Mochales to marry! She was certain that the arrangement had not existed that morning. A fleet inchoate sorrow numbed her heart and fled.
"Your sister, signora, has said something different.... She did not want to tell me, but I persisted I saw that something was wrong and forced it from her." "Enough!" Orsi commanded. "One can see plainly that you have been duped; some things may be overlooked.... You have talked enough." Mochales moved easily forward. "You pudding!" he said in a low even voice.
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