"She is an old acquaintance of mine--from my own State--
California."
"Ah, so," said the General, lifting his eyebrows in profound
apology. "A thousand pardons."
"Surely," said Paul, with a desperate attempt to recover his
equanimity, "YOU ought to know our geography better."
"So, I am wrong. But still the name--Arguello--surely that is not
American? Still, they say she has no accent, and does not look
like a Mexican."
For an instant Paul was superstitiously struck with the fatal
infelicity of Yerba's selection of a foreign name, that now seemed
only to invite that comment and criticism which she should have
avoided. Nor could he explain it at length to the General without
assisting and accenting the deception, which he was always hoping
in some vague way to bring to an end. He was sorry he had
corrected the General; he was furious that he had allowed himself
to be confused.
Happily his companion had misinterpreted his annoyance, and with
impulsive German friendship threw himself into what he believed to
be Paul's feelings. "Donnerwetter! Your beautiful countrywoman is
made the subject of curiosity just because that stupid baron is
persistent in his serious attentions. That is quite enough, my
good friend, to make Klatschen here among those animals who do not
understand the freedom of an American girl, or that an heiress may
have something else to do with her money than to expend it on the
Baron's mortgages.
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