_ Such wearisome
days they proved to me, and so anxious was I getting about Paquita
away in Montevideo, that I was more than once on the point of giving
up waiting for the passport, which Don Florentino had promised to get
for me, and boldly venture forth without even that fig-leaf into the
open. Demetria's prudent counsels, however, prevailed, so that my
departure was put off from day to day. The only pleasure I experienced
in the house arose from the belief I entertained that my visit had
made an agreeable break in the sad, monotonous life of my gentle
hostess. Her tragical story had stirred my heart to a very deep pity,
and as I grew every day to know her better I began to appreciate and
esteem her for her own pure, gentle, self-sacrificing character.
Notwithstanding the dreary seclusion in which she had lived, seeing
no society, and with only those old servants, so primitive in their
ways, for company, there was not the slightest trace of rusticity in
her manner. That, however, is not saying much for Demetria, since in
most ladies--most women I might almost say--of Spanish origin thereis a
natural grace and dignity of manner one only expects to find in
women socially well placed in our own country. When we were all together
at meals, or in the kitchen sipping _mate,_ she was invariably
silent, always with that shadow of some concealed anxiety on her face;
but when alone with me, or when only old Santos and Ramona were present,
the cloud would be gone, her eyes would lighten up and the rare smile
come more frequently to her lips.
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