He whirled her into the dining room.  No one else was there.  He kissed her full on the mouth.

“Dost thou believe me now?” he asked.

She raised her little hand and struck him on the face, but the sting was not hotter than her lips had been.

“May the saints roll you in perdition!” she cried hoarsely.  “May they thrust burning coals into the eyes that lied to me!  May the devils bite off the fingers that made me shame myself!  God!  God!  I hate you!  I—­I, who have fooled so many men, to have been rolled in the dust by you!”

He drew back and regarded her sadly.

“I see that it is no use to try to convince you,” he said; “and I have no proof to show that I never received your letter.  But while the stars jewel the heavens, Eulogia, I shall love thee and believe that thou lovest me.”

He opened the door, and she swept past him into the sala.  Abel Hudson stepped forward to offer his arm, and for the moment Pablo forgot Eulogia.

“John Power!” he cried.

Hudson, with an oath, leaped backward, sprang upon the window-seat, and smashing the pane with his powerful hand disappeared before the startled men thought of stopping him.

“Catch him!  Catch him!” cried Ignestria, excitedly.  “It is John Power.  He stood me up a year ago.”

He whipped his pistol from the saddle-bags in the corner, and opening the door ran down the road, followed by the other men, shouting and firing their pistols into the air.  But they were too late.  Power had sprung upon Ignestria’s horse, and was far on his way.

VIII

The next day Eulogia went with her mother and Aunt Anastacia to pay a visit of sympathy to Dona Jacoba at Los Quervos.  Eulogia’s eyes were not so bright nor her lips so red as they had been the night before, and she had little to say as the wagon jolted over the rough road, past the cypress fences, then down between the beautiful tinted hills of Los Quervos.  Dona Pomposa sat forward on the high seat, her feet dangling just above the floor, her hands crossed as usual over her stomach, a sudden twirl of thumbs punctuating her remarks.  She wore a loose black gown trimmed with ruffles, and a black reboso about her head.  Aunt Anastacia was attired in a like manner, but clutched the side of the wagon with one hand and an American sunshade with the other.

“Poor Jacoba!” exclaimed Dona Pomposa; “her stern heart is heavy this day.  But she has such a sense of her duty, Anastacia.  Only that makes her so stern.”

“O-h-h-h, y-e-e-s.”  When Aunt Anastacia was preoccupied or excited, these words came from her with a prolonged outgoing and indrawing.

“I must ask her for the recipe for those cakes—­the lard ones, Anastacia.  I have lost it.”

“O-h-h, y-e-e-s.  I love those cakes.  Madre de Dios!  It is hot!”

“I wonder will she give Eulogia a mantilla when the chit marries.  She has a chest full.”