Russo
and he conversed in low tones. A buzz of talk broke out in the tent.
Carmela felt that she had no part in this activity, that her mere
presence was a positive hindrance to the work in hand. A trifle
disappointed, yet not without a thrill of high resolve to create for
herself an indispensable share in the movement of which her father was
the central figure, she went out, unhitched her tired horse, and walked
to the house.
In Brazil, a _quinta_, or farm, may range from a palace to a hovel.
Dom Corria was rich; consequently Las Flores attained the higher level.
It was a straggling, roomy structure, planned for comfort and
hospitality rather than display, and the gardens, to whose beauty and
extent was due the Spanish name, used to be famous throughout the
province. Carmela had not seen the place during five years; she
expected to find changes, but was hardly prepared for the ravages made
by neglect, aided by unchecked tropical growth, as the outcome of her
father's two years in prison. The flowers were gone, the rarer shrubs
choked by rank weeds, the trees disfigured by rampant climbers. But,
in front of the long, deep veranda, even the attention of a month had
restored much of its beauty to a widespread lawn. Here, at that early
hour, the air was cool and the shade abundant; indeed, so embossed in
towering trees was the wide greensward, that it seemed to flow abruptly
into the veranda without ever a path or garden gate to break the solid
walls of foliage.
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