“Oh,” retorted Murella with pretty nonchalance, “I no care! I lofe amuse myself,” leading the way to the main saloon. “I haf always parteekler frent, same as baroness, ess it not?” and she sank indolently into the cushioned depths of a primrose sofa, waving the baroness to a place beside her, and leaving the party to make choice of seats. A glance at the original design and superb appointments of this interior suggested the incongruity of hammocks and _ollas_, yet here they were many times repeated, for “ice is the devil’s nectar,” runs a Spanish proverb, and the _olla_ has no rival save the mescal jug. Every well-to-do Mexican family keeps beneath its roof a corps of female retainers, who are neither servants nor guests, but something between the two. They dine—except on occasions—at the family board, and mingle always at the family gathering, but they assist in the household labors, and sometimes, though not often, receive a stated money compensation. They are usually relatives, more or less distant, of the mistress of the household. The beautiful casa and great wealth of the Gonzales family had nearly depopulated the neighboring Mexican State of Sonora of all the needy Alvarados who could claim kinship with the Donna Maria, and a dozen of these señoritas now appeared shyly at the doors, their mantillas closely drawn, though the day was warm, and many voices and excellent music were heard from all quarters of the house and grounds. After a few moments the Señora Gonzales, with her brother, Don Manuel Alvarado, who acted as major-domo of the estate, were presented, but the señora soon glided away unobserved, leaving her brother to the honors of guide over the mansion. “You are very beautiful,” spoke Murella with apparent naiveté, as they arose to follow the party who had preceded them. The smile of the baroness was tinged with bitterness as she turned to look into the Madonna face beside her, and ventured to reply. “And Señor Morning lofes you like heaven and the angels,” she continued unctuously. “Señorita, you forget that I have a husband.” “Is he jealous?” “Surely no,” replied the baroness sincerely. “Then I no know what you mean a.” “I mean that I owe a wife’s duty to the baron,” slowly, with rising color. “And what you owe a to the other fellow?” meaning Morning. The baroness was too much confused to speak. “You know him a long time?” “Before I married the baron and went abroad.” “And you lofe him all these a year? Oh thunner!” Murella’s English must be taken with many grains of allowance. The strongest words in a foreign or unfamiliar tongue seem ineffectual and weak. “I must plead the indulgence of a guest,” laughed the baroness, “and withdraw myself from the searching operations of your cunning catechism, or turn the lights upon you. How long have you known—” But the señorita had softly glided away, standing apart and giving hurried orders for luncheon.