Manuela spread out her arms with a despairing gesture. Was this, she asked, the place where the señorita was going to live? Where was she to hang the dresses? where was she to lay out the dressing things? As to making up the bed,--it would be better to die at once, in Manuela's opinion, than to live--Here Manuela stopped suddenly, for she had seen something. Rita, whose back was turned to the doorway of the hut, was rating her severely. Was this Manuela's patriotism, she wished to know? had she not said, over and over again, that she was prepared to shed the last drop of blood for their country, as she herself, Rita, was longing to do? and now, when it was simply a question of a little discomfort, of a few privations shared with their brave defenders, here was Manuela complaining and fretting, like a peevish child. Well! and what was the matter now?
Manuela had risen from her despairing position, and was now bustling about the hut, brushing, smoothing, tidying up, with an air of smiling alacrity. But indeed, yes! she said; the señorita put her to shame. If the señorita could endure these trials, it was not for her poor Manuela to complain. No, indeed, sooner would she die. And after all, the hut was small, but that made things more handy, perhaps. The beautiful table that this would become, if she might remove the Señor Don Carlos's cigar-ashes? There! a scarf thrown over it--ah! What fortune, that she had brought the crimson satin scarf! Behold, an exhibition of beauty! As for the bed, she had heard from--from those who were soldiers themselves, that no couch was so soft, so wooing to sleep, as one of forest boughs. It stood to reason; there was poetry in the thought, as the señorita justly remarked. Now, with a few nails or pegs to hang things on, their little apartment would be complete. Let the señorita of her goodness forget the foolishness of her poor Manuela; she should hear no more of it; that was a promise.
Rita looked in amazement at her follower; the girl's eyes were sparkling, her cheeks flushed, and she could not keep back the smiles that came dimpling and rippling over her pretty face.
"But what has happened to you, Manuela?" cried Rita. "I insist upon knowing. What have you seen?"