Jane had finished. Lydia sulkily declined his assistance. He kissed them both, and went off to his nightly jottings and to pack the conjugal portmanteau.
Lydia continued to brush out her golden locks and to frown at her mirror. She longed for sympathy and a confidant, but knew that Jane would agree with her father, and recalled that Catalina had barely taken note of Zuñiga’s existence.
“But if he has any sand,” she informed herself, “he will follow me up. And I’ll marry whom I please—so there!”
The next morning, having seen the rest of the party off to the cathedral, Catalina and Captain Over started down the Rambla Centro in high good-humor; they shared the exhilaration of moving on, and enjoyed the novelty of the new housekeeping. They packed a hamper with cold ham and roast chicken, cake, and two loaves of bread. Then Catalina bought recklessly in a confectioner’s and Captain Over visited a coffee-shop. When they had filled the front seat of their cab, Catalina, after a half-hour of sharp bargaining, bought a white lace mantilla and a fine old fan.
“These are two of the things I came to Spain for,” she announced to the bewildered Englishman, who had shopped with women before, but never with a woman who was definite, concentrated, driving hard in a straight line. As they went out with the precious bundle he ventured his first remark.
“I had an idea you were indifferent to dress.”
“I am and I am not. I had rather be comfortable most of the time, and I hate being stared at, but when I dress I dress. I may never wear this mantilla, but it is a thing of beauty to possess and look at.”
“I hope you will wear it, and here in Spain. Are you part Spanish, by-the-way?”
“Indian?” He looked at her with renewed interest. “Do you mind?”
“No, I don’t. It’s a good excuse for a whole lot of things.”
“Ah, I see. Well, it certainly makes you different from other people. You like that and you may believe it.”
Lydia was profoundly thankful to leave Barcelona while her marquis still slumbered; she was too young and curious not to be glad to travel on any terms, but to say farewell in a third-class carriage to a member of an ancient aristocracy was quite another matter. She accounted for Captain Over’s willingness to travel humbly by the supposition that he was in love with Catalina, and did not believe for a moment that it was his habit.