Amparito, who was doubtless accustomed to seeing everybody in town fluttering about her, was wounded at this indifference and took every chance to see Cæsar, and then shot her wit at him and was sharply impertinent.
The young creature was more intelligent than she had at first appeared and she spoke very plainly.
Cæsar could not permit a young girl to make fun of him and combat his ideas for her own amusement.
“Let’s see, Moneada,” Amparito said to him one day in the gallery at Don Calixto’s. “What are your political plans?”
“You wouldn’t understand them,” replied Cæsar.
“Why not? Do you think I am so stupid?”
“No. It is merely that politics are not a matter for children.” “Ah! But how old do you think I am?” she asked.
“You must be twelve or thirteen.”
“You are a malicious joker, Señor Moncada, You know that I am almost seventeen.”
“I don’t. How should I know it?”