To serve you! Gentlemen! Won’t you take a seat?”
They all sat down, in the dusty, dreary room, in the old leather chairs. The Bishop nervously looked at his thin old hands, at the fine, but rather dull amethyst ring he wore.
“Good! Señores!” he said, glancing up with his little black eyes. “At your service! Entirely at the service of your Honours.”
“Doña Carlota is in the city, Father. You have seen her?” said Ramón.
“Yes, son of mine,” said the Bishop.
“Then you know the latest news about me. She told you everything.”
“Somewhat! Somewhat! She spoke somewhat of you, the poor little thing. Thanks to God she has her sons with her. They are safely back in their native country, in good health.”
“Did you see them?”
“Yes! Yes! Two of my dearest children! Very sympathetic, very intelligent, like their father; and,