Volume after volume of poets who sang of love; volumes that had to do with horsemanship; books that had been written at the dictation of masters of fence; tales of great generals and warriors were there.
Surely these volumes were not for a man of Don Diego’s blood, she told herself. And then she thought that perhaps he reveled in them, though not in the manner of life they preached. Don Diego was something of a puzzle, she told herself for the hundredth time; and she went back and began reading the poetry again.
Then Captain Ramón hammered at the front door.
XIII
Love Comes Swiftly
The despensero hurried to open it.
“I regret that Don Diego is not at home, señor,” he said. “He has gone to his hacienda.”
“I know as much. Don Carlos and wife and daughter are here, are they not?”
“Don Carlos and his wife are out on a visit this evening, señor.”
“The señorita—”
“Is here, of course.”
“In that case, I shall pay my respects to the señorita,” Captain Ramón said.
“Señor! Pardon me, but the little lady is alone.”
“Am I not a proper man?” the captain demanded.
“It—it is scarcely right for her to receive the visit of a gentleman when her dueña is not present.”
“Who are you, to speak to me of the proprieties?” Captain Ramón demanded. “Out of my way, scum! Cross me, and you shall be punished. I know things concerning you!”
The face of the despensero went white at that, for the captain spoke the truth, and at a word could cause him considerable trouble and mayhap a term in carcel. Yet he knew what was right.
“But, señor—” he protested.
Captain Ramón thrust him aside with his left arm, and stalked into the big living-room. Lolita sprang up in alarm when she saw him standing before her.
“Ah, señorita, I trust that I did not startle you,” he said. “I regret that your parents are absent, yet must have a few words with you. This servant would deny me entrance, but I imagine you have naught to fear from a man with one wounded arm.”
“It—it is scarcely proper, is it, señor?” the girl asked, a bit frightened.
“I feel sure no harm can come of it,” he said.
He went across the room and sat down on one end of the couch, and admired her beauty frankly. The despensero hovered near.
“Go to your kitchen, fellow!” Captain Ramón commanded.
“No; allow him to remain,” Lolita begged. “My father commanded it, and he courts trouble if he leaves.”
“And if he remains. Go, fellow!”
The servant went.
Captain Ramón turned toward the girl again, and smiled upon her. He flattered himself that he knew women—they loved to see a man show mastery over other men.
“More beautiful than ever, señorita,” he said in a purring voice. “I really am glad to find you thus alone, for there is something I would say to you.”
“What can that be, señor?”
“Last night at your father’s hacienda I asked his permission to pay my addresses to you. Your beauty has inflamed my heart, señorita, and I would have you for my wife. Your father consented, except that he said Don Diego Vega also had received permission. So it appears that it lies between Don Diego and myself.”
“Should you speak of it, señor?” she asked.
“Certainly Don Diego Vega is not the man for you,” he went on. “Has he courage, spirit? Is he not a laughingstock because of his weakness?”
“You speak ill of him in his own house?” the señorita asked, her eyes flashing.
“I speak the truth, señorita. I would have your favor. Can you not look upon me with kindness? Can you not give me hope that I may win your heart and hand?”
“Captain Ramón, all this is unworthy,” she said. “It is not the proper manner, and you know it. I beg you to leave me now.”
“I await your answer, señorita.”
Her outraged pride rose up at that. Why could she not be wooed as other señoritas, in the proper fashion? Why was this man so bold in his words? Why did he disregard the conventions?
“You must leave me,” she said firmly. “This is all wrong, and you are aware of it. Would you make my name a byword, Captain Ramón? Suppose somebody was to come and find us like this—alone?”
“Nobody will come, señorita. Can you not give me an answer?”
“No!” she cried, starting to get to her feet. “It is not right that you should ask it. My father, I assure you, shall hear of this visit!”
“Your father!” he sneered. “A man who has the ill-will of the governor! A man who is being plucked because he possessed no political sense! I fear not your father! He should be proud of the fact that Captain Ramón looks at his daughter.”
“Señor!”
“Do not run away!” he said, clutching her hand. “I have done you the honor to ask you to be my wife—”
“Done me the honor!” she cried angrily, and almost in tears. “It is the man who is done the honor when a woman accepts him.”
“I like you when you rage,” he observed. “Sit down again—beside me, here. And now give me your answer!”
“Señor!”
“You will wed me, of course. I shall intercede with the governor for your father and get a part of his estate restored. I shall take you to San Francisco de Asis, to the governor’s house, where you will be admired by persons of rank!”
“Señor! Let me go!”
“My answer, señorita! You have held me off enough!”
She wrenched away from him, confronted him with blazing eyes, her tiny hands clenched at her sides.
“Wed with you?” she cried. “Rather would I remain a maid all my life, rather would I wed with a native, rather would I die than wed with you! I wed a caballero, a gentleman, or no man! And I cannot say that you are such!”
“Pretty words from the daughter of a man who is about
