“Let us talk of something else, señorita. Let us speak of the matter regarding which I talked the other day. My father will be after me again soon to know when I am going to take a wife. Cannot we get the matter settled in some manner? Have you decided upon the day?”
“I have not said that I would marry you,” she replied.
“Why hold off?” he questioned. “Have you looked at my house? I shall make it satisfactory to you I am sure. You shall refurnish it to suit your taste, though I pray you do not disturb it too much, for I dislike to have things in a mess. You shall have a new carriage and anything you may desire.”
“Is this your manner of wooing?” she asked, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes.
“What a nuisance to woo!” he said. “Must I play a guitar, and make pretty speeches? Can you not give me your answer without all that foolishness?”
She was comparing this man beside her with Señor Zorro, and Don Diego did not compare to him favorably. She wanted to be done with this farce, to have Don Diego out of her vision, and none but Señor Zorro in it.
“I must speak frankly to you, caballero,” she said. “I have searched my heart, and in it I find no love for you. I am sorry, for I know what our marriage would mean to my parents, and to myself in a financial way. But I cannot wed you, Don Diego, and it is useless for you to ask.”
“Well, by the saints! I had thought it was about all settled!” he said. “Do you hear that, Don Carlos? Your daughter says she cannot wed with me—that it is not in her heart to do so.”
“Lolita, retire to your chamber!” Doña Catalina exclaimed.
The girl did so, gladly. Don Carlos and his wife hurried across the room and sat down beside Don Diego.
“I fear you do not understand women, my friend,” Don Carlos said. “Never must you take a woman’s answer for the last. She always may change her mind. A woman likes to keep a man dangling, likes to make him blow cold with fear and hot with anticipation. Let her have her moods, my friend. In the end, I am sure, you shall have your way.”
“It is beyond me!” Don Diego cried. “What shall I do now! I told her I would give her all her heart desired.”
“Her heart desires love, I suppose,” Doña Catalina said, out of the wealth of her woman’s wisdom.
“But certainly I shall love and cherish her. Does not a man promise that in the ceremony? Would a Vega break his word regarding such a thing?”
“Just a little courtship,” Don Carlos urged.
“But it is such a nuisance!”
“A few soft words, a pressure of the hand now and then, a sigh or two, a languishing look from the eyes—”
“Nonsense!”
“It is what a maiden expects. Speak not of marriage for some time. Let the idea grow on her—”
“But my august father is liable to come to the pueblo any day and ask when I am to take a wife. He has rather ordered me to do it.”
“No doubt your father will understand,” said Don Carlos. “Tell him that her mother and myself are on your side and that you are enjoying the pleasure of winning the girl.”
“I believe we should return to the hacienda tomorrow,” Doña Catalina put in. “Lolita has seen this splendid house, and she will contrast it with ours. She will realize what it means to marry you. And there is an ancient saying that when a man and a maid are apart they grow fonder of each other.”
“I do not wish to have you hurry away.”
“I think it would be best under the circumstances. And do you ride out, say, in three days, caballero, and I doubt not you will find her more willing to listen to your suit.”
“I presume you know best,” Don Diego said. “But you must remain at least until tomorrow. And now I think I shall go to the presidio and see this Captain Ramón. Possibly that will please the señorita. She appears to think I should call him to account.”
Don Carlos thought that such a course would prove disastrous for a man who did not practice with the blade and knew little of fighting, but he refrained from saying so. A gentleman never intruded his own thoughts at such a time. Even if a caballero went to his death, it was all right so long as he believed he was doing the proper thing, and died as a caballero should.
So Don Diego went from the house and walked slowly up the hill toward the presidio building. Captain Ramón observed his approach, and wondered at it, and snarled at the thought of coming to combat with such a man.
But he was cold courtesy itself when Don Diego was ushered into the comandante’s office.
“I am proud to know you have visited me here,” he said, bowing low before the scion of the Vegas.
Don Diego bowed in answer, and took the chair Captain Ramón indicated. The captain marveled that Don Diego had no blade at his side.
“I was forced to climb your confounded hill to speak to you on a certain matter,” Don Diego said. “I have been informed that you visited my house during my absence, and insulted a young lady who is my guest.”
“Indeed?” the captain said.
“Were you deep in wine?”
“Señor?”
“That would excuse the offense in part, of course. And then you were wounded, and probably in a fever. Were you in a fever, captain?”
“Undoubtedly,” Ramón said.
“A fever is an awful thing—I had a siege of it once. But you should not have intruded upon the señorita. Not only did you affront her, but you affronted me. I have asked the señorita to become my wife. The matter—er—is not settled as yet, but I have some rights in this case.”
“I entered your house seeking news of
