I judge from this that
you have been unfortunate enough to draw the--er--er--unloaded
pistol.
Concho (tremulously lowering weapon). Eh! Ah! This is murder!
(Drops pistol.) Murder!--eh--help (retreating), help!
[Exit hurriedly door C., as clock strikes. COL. STARBOTTLE lowers
his pistol, and moves with great pomposity to the other side of the
table, taking up pistol.
Starbottle (examining pistol). Ah! (Lifts it, and discharges it.)
It seems that I am mistaken. (Going.) The pistol WAS--er--loaded!
[Exit.
SCENE 4.--Front scene. Room in villa. Enter MISS MARY and JOVITA.
Miss Mary. I tell you, you are wrong, you are not only
misunderstanding your lover, which is a woman's privilege, but you
are abusing my cousin, which, as his relative, I won't put up with.
Jovita (passionately). But hear me, Miss Mary. It is a year since
we were betrothed; and such a betrothal! Why, I was signed,
sealed, and delivered to him, on conditions, as if I were a part of
the rancho; and the very night, too, I had engaged to run away with
him! And during that year I have seen the gentleman twice,--yes,
twice!
Miss Mary. But he has written?
Jovita. Mother of God! Yes,--letters delivered by my father, sent
to HIS CARE, read by him first, of course; letters hoping that I
was well, and obeying my father's commands; letters assuring me of
his unaltered devotion; letters that, compared with the ones he
used to hide in the confessional of the ruined mission church, were
as ice to fire, were as that snow-flower you value so much, Mary,
to this mariposa blossom I wear in my hair.
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