'I fancy I have met the younger lady at the theatre, and at other places of amusement,' I observe.
'Very likely,' says Tunicú. 'Cachita is fond of amusement. You see, she has no lover yet to fall back upon, as it were. Lots of admirers, though; but the old man wants to wed her to young Amador, son of old Catasus, the rich planter; and the sensible young lady dislikes Amador because he is a Spaniard, and a coxcomb into the bargain.'
'Are you very intimate with the Perales?' I ask.
'Intimate!' repeats my friend with a scornful smirk. 'Well, I look in at their tertulia at least twice a week. But you seem interested in the family--sweet upon the señorita, eh! Admire your taste--acknowledged beauty, you know.'
'Can you introduce me to the young lady and her mama?' I ask.
Can he? of course he can! He has been waiting till now to do so.
I am accordingly presented to the ladies as 'El Caballero Inglés, Don Gualterio, bosom companion of Don Nicasio Rodriguez y Boldú,' whom everybody has heard of. Then all four stroll round the promenade; Tunicú artfully engaging the old lady, and leaving me to do the amiable with the pretty creole.
As we walk and converse, the military band continues to play operatic selections, zarzuela medleys, pots-pourris of favourite airs and Cuban dances. At ten o'clock precisely the music ceases, and the band removes to the governor's house which faces the square. At a given signal, a quick march is played, and before the music is half over, the instrumentalists depart in procession through the streets leading to their barracks.
We now take leave of our lady friends, who intimate their intention of being present at the Philharmonic rooms, where a grand ball has been advertised for to-night. Many of the invited remain in the Plaza till the opening of this ball, which is announced by a band of negro minstrels who come to escort the dancers to the scene of festivities. During the promenade, partners have been already engaged, and as Tunicú is a member of the Philharmonic, and has offered to procure me an admission, I engage myself to the charming Cachita for the first three dances.
Tunicú and I occupy the interval which precedes the opening of the ball in various ways. The terrace of the cathedral, which overlooks the square, is thronged with coloured people, who, not being allowed to join in the promenade below, watch their white brethren from a distance. There is, however, among this assembly, a sprinkling of whites, some of whom are in a state of mourning, and consider it indecorous to show themselves in public; while others, like Tunicú and myself, visit the occupants of the terrace to exchange greetings with some of the dark divinities there. Tunicú is a great admirer of whitey-brown beauty, especially that which birth and the faintest coffee-colour alone distinguish from the pure and undefiled. He is also an advocate of equality of races, and like many other liberal Cubans, sighs for the day when slavery shall be abolished. Some of the brown ladies whom he addresses belong to respectable families of wealth and importance in the town; and were it not for certain rules which society prescribes, Tunicú says they would contract the whitest of alliances.