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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"A First Family of Tasajara"

As
Mrs. Ramirez left he lit a cigarette and listlessly walked up and
down the gallery. But Clementina did not come, neither did his hostess
return. A subdued step in the passage raised his hopes,--it was only
the grizzled major domo, to show him his room that he might prepare for
dinner.
He followed mechanically down the long passage to a second corridor.
There was a chance that he might meet Clementina, but he reached his
room without encountering any one. It was a large vaulted apartment with
a single window, a deep embrasure in the thick wall that seemed to focus
like a telescope some forgotten, sequestered part of the leafy garden.
While washing his hands, gazing absently at the green vignette framed by
the dark opening, his attention was drawn to a movement of the foliage,
stirred apparently by the rapid passage of two half-hidden figures. The
quick flash of a feminine skirt seemed to indicate the coy flight of
some romping maid of the casa, and the pursuit and struggle of her
vaquero swain. To a despairing lover even the spectacle of innocent,
pastoral happiness in others is not apt to be soothing, and Grant was
turning impatiently away when he suddenly stopped with a rigid face and
quickly approached the window. In her struggles with the unseen Corydon,
the clustering leaves seemed to have yielded at the same moment with the
coy Chloris, and parting--disclosed a stolen kiss! Grant's hand lay like
ice against the wall.


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