Carmen's little heart was touched. But she still went on over the back
of the chair.
"Don Royal," she said, emphasizing each word at him with her fan,
"before I saw you,--ever knew of you,--I was a child. Yes, I was but
a child! I was a bold, bad child;--and I was what you call
a--a--'forgaire'!"
"A what?" asked Thatcher, hesitating between a smile and a sigh.
"A forgaire!" continued Carmen demurely. "I did of myself write the
names of ozzer peoples;" when Carmen was excited she lost the control of
the English tongue; "I did write just to please myself;--it was my onkle
that did make of it money;--you understand, eh? Shall you not speak?
Must I again hit you?"
"Go on," said Thatcher laughing.
"I did find out, when I came to you at the mine, that I had forged
against you the name of Micheltorena. I to the lawyer went, and found
that it was so--of a verity--so! so! all the time. Look at me not now,
Don Royal;--it is a 'forgaire' you stare at."
"Carmen!"
"Hoosh! Shall I have to hit you again? I did overlook all the papers.
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