"Senor Capitan, what do you mean?"
"That the painter has not done you justice. The portrait is certainly a
likeness, yet the expression, I think, should have been younger."
"The painter! What painter? The portrait! What portrait, Senor?"
"I refer to your portrait, which I accidentally found hanging in my
apartment."
"Ah! by the mirror?"
"Yes, by the mirror," I answered sullenly.
"But, it is not _mine_, Senor Capitan."
"Ha!--how? Not yours?"
"No; it is the portrait of my cousin, Maria de Merced. They say we were
much alike."
My heart expanded. My whole frame quivered under the influence of
joyful emotions.
"And the gentleman?" I faltered out.
"Don Emilio? He was cousin's lover--_huyeron_," (they eloped).
As she repeated the last word she turned her head away, and I thought
there was a sadness in her manner.