"Ah, I am glad to see he has not forgotten how to bow properly, or, I rather suspect, he has picked up the art since his return. I protest that, the first day he came back, he had no notion of bending his body, like the English, who, I hear, are either born with one joint only, and that is in their necks, or else they become stiffened from their forgetting to use them. Now, you are going to defend your friends, but don't attempt it; I hate them, with their stiff pride and supercilious airs, thinking every people their inferiors who do not possess such good roads and fine horses as themselves. There was one man who came here, an English lord, I forget his dreadful name, but it pained my mouth to attempt to pronounce it, who compared everything he saw with his own country; and, because our habits and manners differed from those to which he was accustomed, he must needs consider ours far less civilised, and took no trouble to conceal his opinion." "Though at first rather distant in manner, I was received by many with great cordiality and kindness, and saw much to admire in their manners and institutions," answered Luis, wishing to protect the character of his friends. "I know nothing about their institutions," exclaimed Donna Theresa, in a pettish tone, "but I know their impertinent superciliousness will make them enemies wherever they go--so talk no more about them. By-the-bye, I hear you have been vying in your exploits with that renowned hero Don Quixote, and rescuing distressed damsels from the power of brigands by the strength of your single arm, and with the aid of your faithful squire Pedro. Everybody in Lisbon is prepared to look upon you as a complete Knight Errant. I heard all about it from Donna Clara herself, who speaks warmly in praise of your gallantry, I assure you; and if she does not think you are perfection itself, she thinks you very near it. I believe if anything could make her angry, it would have been my abusing you to her, but, instead of that, it almost made her cry." "Where is Donna Clara?" exclaimed Luis, interrupting her eagerly: "I have a packet to deliver to her." "You will find her in the ball-room, the admired of all beholders, and of none more so than of the Conde San Vincente, of whose lynx-eyed jealousy beware; and now, as I see that you are anxious to deliver your message, I will not detain you. Farewell, Luis!" she spoke in a softer tone. "I wronged her," muttered Luis, as he hastened to the ball-room. "Her heart is not turned to stone. Such dwells not in the female breast."