was always perspiring; a crime, she felt sure—with entire disregard of its fatal consequences—that Mochales never committed.
"A friend of ours—it was Bembo—said that he saw you at San Sebastian with your King," Anna Mantegazza put in.
"Why not? But Alphonso is a fine boy; he understands the business of royalty. Every year I dedicate a magnificent bull to the King on his name day."
"Will you dedicate one to me?" Gheta asked carelessly.
"The best in Andalusia," he responded with fire.
Cesare Orsi made a slight sharp exclamation, and Lavinia's heart beat painfully. The former turned to her with sudden determination.
"Were you comfortable in my carriage," he demanded, "and fetched home at a smart pace?"
Lavinia thanked him.
"You are always so quiet," he complained. "I'm certain there's a great deal in that wise young head worth hearing."
"Lavinia is still in the schoolroom," Gheta explained brutally. "Yesterday she put up her hair, to-day Anna Mantegazza invites her, and we have an effect."
Anna Mantegazza turned to the younger with a new veiled scrutiny. Her gaze rested for an instant on Orsi and then moved contemplatively to Gheta and Abrego y Mochales. It was evident that her thoughts were very busy; a faint sparkle appeared in her eyes, a fresh vivacity animated her manner. Suddenly she included Lavinia in her remarks; she put queries to the girl patently intended
