Miguel admired the paintings. He was struck particularly with a crayon
drawing of a mule. "Mother of God, it is the mule itself! observe how it
will not go." Then the crafty Victor broke in with, "But it is nothing
to her writing; look, you shall tell to me which is the handwriting
of Pio Pico;" and, from a drawer in the secretary, he drew forth two
signatures. One was affixed to a yellowish paper, the other drawn on
plain white foolscap. Of course Miguel took the more modern one
with lover-like gallantry. "It is this is genuine!" Victor laughed
triumphantly; Carmen echoed the laugh melodiously in child-like glee,
and added, with a slight toss of her piquant head, "It is mine!" The
best of the sex will not refuse a just and overdue compliment from
even the man they dislike. It's the principle they're after, not the
sentiment.
But Victor was not satisfied with this proof of his niece's skill. "Say
to her," he demanded of Miguel, "what name thou likest, and it shall be
done before thee here.
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