Part 12 (2/2)
There was no lack of entertainment and variety in that town, for people generally seemed to a great extent to have cast off the trammels of social etiquette, both in habits and costume. Many of the horses that pa.s.sed were made to carry double. Here would ride past a man with a woman behind him; there a couple of girls, or two elderly females.
Elsewhere appeared a priest of tremendous length and thinness, with feet much too near the ground, and further on a boy, so small as to resemble a monkey, with behind him a woman so old as to suggest the idea he had taken his great-grandmother out for a ride, or--_vice versa_!
For some hours master and man wandered about enjoying themselves thoroughly in spite of the heat, commenting freely on all they saw and heard, until hunger reminded them of the flight of time. Returning to their hotel, Lawrence, to his surprise, found a note awaiting him. It was from Pedro, saying that he had found his friend in a village about three miles from San Ambrosio, describing the route to the place, and asking him to send Quashy out immediately, as he wanted his a.s.sistance that night for a few hours.
”I wonder what he wants with you?” said Lawrence.
”To help him wid de mischif!” replied the negro, in a half-sulky tone.
”Well, you'll have to go, but you'd better eat something first.”
”No, ma.s.sa; wid you's leave I'll go off at once. A hunk ob bread in de pocket an' lots o' fruit by de way--das 'nuff for dis n.i.g.g.e.r.”
”Off with you, then, and tell Pedro that you left Manuela and me quite comfortable.”
”O Ma.s.sa Lawrie!--'scuse me usin' de ole name--it _am_ so nice to hear you speak jolly like dat. 'Minds me ob de ole times!”
”Get along with you,” said Lawrence, with a laugh, as the warm-hearted black left the hotel.
Thus these two parted. Little did they imagine what singular experiences they should encounter before meeting again.
Soon after Quashy's departure Lawrence went to the door of Manuela's room, and, tapping gently, said--
”Dinner is ready, Manuela.”
”I kom queek,” replied the girl, with a hearty laugh.
It had by that time become an established little touch of pleasantry between these two that Lawrence should teach the Indian girl English--at least to the extent of familiar phrases--while she should do the same for him with Spanish. There was one thing that the youth liked much in this, and it also surprised him a little, namely, that it seemed to draw the girl out of her Indian reticence and gravity, for she laughed with childlike delight at the amazing blunders she made in attempting English. Indeed, she laughed far more at herself than at him, although his attempts at Spanish were even more ridiculous.
A few minutes later Manuela entered the room, and, with a modest yet gracious smile, took a seat opposite her pupil-teacher.
”Dignity,” thought the latter--”native dignity and grace! Being the daughter of a great chief of the Incas--a princess, I suppose--she cannot help it. An ordinary Indian female, now, would have come into the room clumsily, looked sheepish, and sat down on the edge of her chair--perhaps on the floor!”
But as he gazed at her short, black, curly hair, her splendid black eyebrows, her pretty little high-bred mouth, beautiful white teeth, and horribly brown skin, he sighed, and only said--
”Ay, ay! Well, well! _What_ a pity!”
”What ees dat?” inquired the girl, with a look of grave simplicity.
”Did I speak?” returned Lawrence, a little confused.
”Yes--you say, `Ay, ay. Well, well. _What_ a pittie!'”
”Oh!--ah!--yes--I was only _thinking_, Manuela. What will you have?”
”Som muttin,” replied the girl, with a pursing of the little mouth that indicated a tendency to laugh.
<script>