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 estate which she believed had fallen to her, making her equal to the best.

"They said she lived down here where the goats are kept. Do you know—can you tell me?"

"Just there, but she is not at home. What do you want with Cecilia? She is not accustomed to such visitors."

"Her door is open; I'll go in and wait," Doña Carlota said, passing on.

"I am taking care of her house, woman," Cecilia spoke with rude familiarity; "you can tell me what you want, as well as Cecilia herself."

"Come in, then," said Doña Carlota, entering without formality, unable even in her imagined peril to understand that a trespass could be imposed upon the poor. "Close the door—so. Now, run for Cecilia; tell her to come to me at once."

"She will come soon—the other chair, the other chair! that one was not made to hold a horse. What do you want, Doña Carlota, coming to this house?"

"You know me? But I do not remember"

"No. How should you remember? Well, what do you want?"

"I am in deadly peril; the American general threatens to hang me to a tree! Go, good thing, and call Cecilia."

"What could Cecilia do to stop him? How do you know she would try?"

"Cecilia loves me dearly, old woman—we were