Part 8 (2/2)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
A SWEET PAIR OF SUITORS.
While the young ladies upon the house-top are discussing the characters of De Lara and Calderon, these worthies, in return, are conversing of them, and in a strain which bodes little good to Inez, with much evil to Carmen. That the visit designed for them is of no ordinary nature, but for an all important purpose, can be gleaned from the speech pa.s.sing between the two hors.e.m.e.n as they ride along the road.
De Lara commences it by remarking:--
”Well, friend Faustino, from something you said before setting out, I take it you're going to Don Gregorio's on an errand very similar to my own? Come, _camarado_! declare it!”
”Declare yours!”
”Certainly. I shall make no secret of it to you; nor need I. Why should there be any between us? We've now known one another long enough, and intimately enough, to exchange confidences of the closest kind. To-day mine is--that I mean proposing to Don Gregorio's daughter--offering her my hand in marriage.”
”And I,” returns Calderon, ”intend doing the same to his grand-daughter.”
”In that case, we're both in the same boat; and, as there's no rivalry between us, we can pull pleasantly together. I've no objection to being your uncle; even admitting you to a share in the old Spaniard's property--proportioned to your claims of kins.h.i.+p.”
”I don't want a dollar of the Don's money; only his grand-daughter. I'm deeply in love with her.”
”And I,” continues De Lara, ”am just as deeply in love with his daughter--it may be deeper.”
”You couldn't. I'm half-mad about Inez Alvarez. I could kill her--if she refuse me.”
”I _shall_ kill Carmen Montijo--if she refuse _me_.” The two men are talking seriously, or seem so. Their voices, the tone, the flas.h.i.+ng of their eyes, the expression upon their faces, with their excited gesticulation--all show them to be in earnest.
At the last outburst of pa.s.sionate speech they turn in their saddles, and look each other in the face. De Lara continues the dialogue:
”Now, tell me, Faustino; what hope have you of success?”
”For that, fair enough. You remember the last _fandango_ held at Don Gregorio's--on the day of the cattle-branding!”
”Certainly I do. I've good reason to remember it. But go on.”
”Well, that night,” proceeds Calderon, ”I danced twice with Inez, and made many sweet speeches to her. Once I went farther, and squeezed her pretty little hand. She wasn't angry, or at all events didn't say or show it. Surely, after such encouragement, I may ask that hand in marriage--with fair presumption of not being refused. What's your opinion?”
”Your chances seem good. But what about himself. He'll have something to say in the matter.”
”Too much, I fear; and that's just what I do fear. So long as his bit of grazing-land was worth only some thirty thousand dollars, he was amiable enough. Now that by this gold discovery it's got to be good value for eight or ten times the amount, he's become a different man, and in all likelihood will go dead against me.”
”Like enough; it's the way of the world. And therefore, on that account, you needn't have a special spite against the Senor Montijo.
You're sure no one else stands between you and your sweetheart? Or is there something in the shape of a rival?”
”Of course there is--a score of them, as you ought to know; same as with yourself, De Lara. Suitors have been coming and going with both, I suppose, ever since either was old enough to receive them. The last I've heard of paying attentions to Inez is a young naval officer--a mids.h.i.+pman on board a British man-of-war now lying in the harbour.
Indeed there are two of them spoken of; one said to be _your_ rival, as the other is mine. Shall I tell you what's been for some time the talk of the town? You may as well know it, if you don't already.”
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