There was a sit-down supper, consisting of sandwiches smelling strong of bad butter, ham and chicken salads, _dulces_ of all sorts, but, alas! no fruit. The dancing continued long after we had retired for the night. The Marquis Aldamar invited us to a _déjeuner_ for the following day; the _volantes_ were again "to the door," and we started off in grand style and great spirits and drove to the top of the mountain, from which we enjoyed a perfectly glorious view of the Yumiri Valley. The winding river looked like a silver thread as it wound in and out through the grassy meadows. Our _déjeuner_ was of a more European character than any that we had yet had in Cuba; the menu was in French--evidently the cook was also French--and the servants looked imported. In fact, everything was in very good style. The hostess was charming and musical, she sang some very pretty Cuban songs, and after a while asked me if I were musical, and if I would play something. The Captain, in an undertone and in all "proudness," said, "Ask Madame to sing." And she did so in a rather condescending manner. I accepted and went timidly to the piano, and as I hesitated as to what I should sing, she said, "Oh! just sing any little thing." With an amused glance at Laura I sang Chopin's waltz, which is the most difficult thing I sing, and the astonishment depicted on the countenance of my patronizing hostess was highly diverting. "I wonder if you are any relation of a Mrs. Moulton whom my cousin knew in Paris," she said. "He was very intimate with a family of your name, and often talked to me about a Mrs. Moulton who sang so beautifully." "Can it be that I am the same person? I have lived in Paris. What was your cousin's name?" I inquired. "Jules Alphonso." "What!" I cried. "Jules Alphonso your cousin? I have not seen him for years. I used to know him so well. Where is he?" "He lives here in Cuba," she answered. "Where in Cuba?" I interrupted. "How extraordinary! How much I should like to see him again!" "And he, I am sure, would like to see you, he has so often talked about you to me. I felt directly last night that I knew you; it must have been intuition." I think, Mama, you must remember Jules. He was like a second son in our house, and was an intimate friend of my brother-in-law, and would have liked to have been a brother-in-law himself if he had been accepted. We all loved him. How strange to find him here! The last place in the world I should have dreamed of! I am not sure that I ever knew that he was a Cuban. My new friend was wild with joy. "You are the one person that I have wanted to know all my life, and, fancy, here you are!" Was it not a curious coincidence to meet _here_, in this out-of-the-way place, some one who knew all about me?