“How did it happen?  Was it—­because of me?”

“No, no!  Rest your mind on that score.  See!  I understand your concern and I share your intimate thoughts.  No, it was an accident, ordained by God.  His end was the result of his own folly, a gunshot wound while he was drunk, I believe.  Now you will understand why I said that I bore tidings both good and evil and why I, of all people, should be the one to impart them.”

Alaire turned questioning eyes upon him, as if to fathom his meaning, and he answered her with his brilliant smile.  Failing to evoke a response, he went on: 

“Ever since I heard of it I have repeated over and over again, ’It is a miracle; it is the will of God.’  Come, then, we know each other so well that we may speak frankly.  Let us be honest and pretend to no counterfeit emotions.  Let us recognize in this only your deliverance and the certainty of that blessed happiness which Divine Providence offers us both.”

“Both?” she repeated, dully.

“Need I be plainer?  You know my heart.  You have read me.  You understand how I have throttled my longings and remained mute while all my being called to you.”

Alaire withdrew a step, and her cheeks colored with anger.  “General!” she exclaimed, with some difficulty, “I am amazed.  This is no time—­” Her indignation rose with the sound of her own voice, causing her to stammer.

Taking advantage of her loss of words, he hurried on:  “You must pardon my impetuosity, but I am a man of tremendous force, and my life moves swiftly.  I am not shackled by conventions—­they are less than nothing to me.  If it seems to you that my eagerness carries me away, remember that war is upon us and that affairs of moment press me so that I am compelled to move like the lightning.  With me, senora, a day is a year.  The past is gone, the present is here, the future rushes forward to meet us.”

“Indeed, you forget yourself,” she said, warmly.  Then, changing her tone:  “I too must act quickly.  I must go back at once.”

“Oh, but I have told you only a part of what I came to say.”

“Surely the rest can wait.”  Her voice was vibrant with contempt.  “I’m in no condition to listen to anything else.”

But Longorio insisted.  “Wait!  It is impossible for you to leave here.”

Alaire stared at him incredulously.

“It is true.  Mexico is a seething caldron of hate; the country is convulsed.  It would be unsafe for you.”

“Do you mean to say that war has been declared?”

“Practically.”

“What—?  You are telling me the truth?” A moment, then Alaire continued, more calmly, “If that is so, there is all the more reason why I should lose no time.”

“Listen!” The general was deeply in earnest.  “You have no conception of the chaos out there.”  He waved a comprehensive gesture.  “If the explosion has not come, it will come within a few hours.  That is why I flew to your side.  Battleships are hurrying toward our coast, troops are massing against our border, and Mexico has risen like one man.  The people are in a frenzy; they are out of bounds; there is sack and pillage in the cities.  Americans are objects of violence everywhere and the peons are frantic.”  He paused impressively.  “We face the greatest upheaval of history.”