From a file of old departmental papers the Governor's signature and that
involved rubric, which must have cost his late Excellency many youthful
days of anxiety, was produced and laid before Carmen.
Carmen took her pen in her hand, looked at the brownish-looking
document, and then at the virgin whiteness of the foolscap before her.
"But," she said, pouting prettily, "I should have to first paint this
white paper brown. And it will absorb the ink more quickly than that.
When I painted the San Antonio of the Mission San Gabriel for Father
Acolti, I had to put the decay in with my oils and brushes before the
good Padre would accept it."
The two scamps looked at each other. It was their supreme moment. "I
think I have," said Victor, with assumed carelessness, "I think I have
some of the old Custom-House paper." He produced from the secretary a
sheet of brown paper with a stamp. "Try it on that."
Carmen smiled with childish delight, tried it, and produced a marvel!
"It is as magic," said Miguel, feigning to cross himself.
Victor's role was more serious. He affected to be deeply touched, took
the paper, folded it, and placed it in his breast. "I shall make a good
fool of Don Jose Castro," he said; "he will declare it is the Governor's
own signature, for he was his friend; but have a care, Carmen! that you
spoil it not by the opening of your red lips. When he is fooled, I
will tell him of this marvel,--this niece of mine, and he shall buy her
pictures. Eh, little one?" and he gave her the avuncular caress, i. e.,
a pat of the hand on either cheek, and a kiss. Miguel envied him, but
cupidity outgeneraled Cupid, and presently the conversation flagged,
until a convenient recollection of Victor's--that himself and
comrade were due at the Posada del Toros at 10 o'clock--gave them the
opportunity to retire. But not without a chance shot from Carmen. "Tell
to me," she said, half to Victor and half to Miguel, "what has chanced
with Concho? He was ever ready to bring to me flowers from the mountain,
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