"Well," said Rollo, "the fellow has been at his old trade again, it seems. He may be Dictator any day now. They say he has ended the war in the north--murdered fourteen of his own brother Generals and bought fourteen of the other side. Bravo, Ezquerra, I always knew he would do something in the fine old style one of these days! But fourteen at a time is epic, even for Spain!"
"And so the war is ended--well, that is always one good thing anyway!"
said Concha, careless of the means; "come, Dolores, let us go and look at the babes! These people ache to talk politics. They don't want us. It is easy to see that!"
So taking the arm of Dolores Garcia (who had glanced once at her husband when he came in and never looked at him again), little Concha walked to the door sedately as became a matron and the wife of a grandee. Then in her old flashing manner she turned about swiftly and from her finger-tips blew the company a dainty collective kiss.
The curtain closed, leaving the three men all staring after her.
But in another moment it was put aside and Concha's pretty head peeped out.
"Rollo," she said, softly, "you can come up when you like--when you have quite finished your politics--just to look at baby. He has not seen you since morning."