Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 97: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

88 big enterprise was afoot in which, per- haps, they might be permitted to take shares. What the nature of the option might be, or how much it would cost them as a preliminary investment, they pre- sumably could not guess. A little more coaxing on their part, and Joe would | have made them a flat proposition, but before it had come to this point, the don arose and suggested that they had taken enough of the evening for com- mercial talk. “ We look upon this time of the day as our period of recreation, Senor Bar- ber,” he said, “ and I cannot think of letting an evening in my house, espe- cially your first here, pass with nothing but the details of business to occupy your mind. The mind, senor, needs refreshment, quite as much as does the body. We have catered to the body. Let us now summon the ladies, and do what we can in our modest way to give refreshment to the mind. Do you en- jOy music, senor? ” “Indeed I do,” Joe replied; “I am not proficient in the art, and have no real knowledge of it, but I take a healthy man’s pleasure in it, and should be delighted to hear some.” “T think my daughter will favor us,” and the don went to the balcony to sum- mon the ladies and nephew Victor. They came in at once, and Senorita Sylvia, quite like an American girl, said prettily: “Is it possible, Senor Barber, that you have been able to finish business talk so soon? ” “ Not at all,” replied Joe; “ the talk is but just begun. We adjourn it sim- ply for the sake of something much better.” “Qh, fie!’ she exclaimed, with a toss of her head, and a sparkling glance from her dark eyes. “ Anything bet- ter than business to an American? I cannot believe it.” “ Sylvia, heart’s darling,” suggested the don, in a mildly reproving tone, “ I fear Senor Barber may not understand your light hearted wit.” THE ARGOSY. ‘“ Have no fear, Don Octavio,” inter- posed Joe; “raillery like that reminds me of home, I assure you. I under- stand,” and he turned now to the senor- ita, ‘that you may be induced to let me hear some music. I am all impa- tience for you to begin.” The senorita smiled coquettishly, and without any affectation of unwill- ingness, went to a table and took from ita gold mounted mandolin. The oth- ers seated themselves in groups about the apartment, while Sylvia remained standing near the table. While she was tuning the instrument, Joe’s glance happened to rest upon nephew Victor. That frigid young man was now a very Statue of austerity. He sat stiffly in a stiff backed chair, looking at the senorita, his brows knit, and his lips compressed with an ex- pression of solemn displeasure. ‘““What’s the matter with him ?” thought Joe. “I don’t believe I-could look at that girl without being warmed into a smile. I presume he has some trouble with his digestion.” Presently, the tuning being com- pleted, the senorita played a brief pre- lude of chords, and, without raising her eyes from the instrument, began to sing. Familiar though he was with spanish, Joe could not wholly under- stand her words. She was evidently singing a folk song in some dialect of the people. The melody, too, was as quaintly strange as the words she used. Sufficient of the latter were clear to the American to make him certain that it was a love song she had chosen, and if he had not understood the words, the luscious, melting quality of her voice, as it rang through the quaint phrases of the air, would have told him the same. Her voice, low at the beginning, increased in volume as she progressed, and presently she raised her eyes, too, and glanced towards Victor. On the instant, Joe, who was watch- ing her intently, observed a change in her expression. A slight flush deep- ened the color upon her ¢712¢i:5, 16 4 © eo