Longorio was plainly flattered by her words, and took no trouble to hide his pleasure.  “Ah!  If that were only true!  We would arrange everything to your satisfaction without another word.”  His admiring gaze seemed to envelop her, and its warmth was unmistakable.  “No one could have the cruelty to deny your slightest wish—­I least of all.”

“Why did you take my cattle?” she demanded, stubbornly.

“I was coming to that.  It is what I meant when I said there was a complication.  Your husband, senora, is an active Candelerista.”

For a moment Alaire was at a loss; then she replied with some spirit:  “We are two people, he and I. La Feria belongs to me.”

“Nevertheless, his conduct is regrettable,” Longorio went on.  “Probably evil men have lied to him—­San Antonio is full of rebels conspiring to give our country into the hands of outlaws.  What a terrible spectacle it is!  Enough to bring tears to the eyes of any patriot!” He turned his melancholy gaze from Alaire to her companion, and for the first time Dolores stirred.

She had watched her countryman with a peculiar fascination, and she had listened breathlessly to his words.  Now she inhaled deeply, as if freed from a spell; then she said: 

“Pah!  Nobody pays heed to Senor Ed. We do not consider him.”

Dolores lacked diplomacy; her bluntness was often trying.  Alaire turned upon her with a sharp exclamation, conscious meanwhile that the woman’s tone, even more than her words, had enlightened Longorio to some extent.  His lifted brows were eloquent of surprise and curiosity, but he held his tongue.

“Am I to understand, then, that you rob me because of my husband’s action?” Alaire asked.

“No.  But we must combat our enemies with the weapons we have—­not only those who bear arms with Candeleria, but those who shelter themselves beyond the Rio Grande.”

Alaire’s face fell.  “I had hoped that you would understand and help me, but I shall go to Mexico City and demand my rights, if necessary.”

“Wait!  I shall help.”  Longorio beamed enthusiastically.  “It shall be the object of my life to serve you, and you and I shall arrange this matter satisfactorily.  I have influence, believe me.  A word from Luis Longorio will go further with my chief than a protest from your President.  General Potosi is a man of the highest honor, and I am his right hand.  Very well, then!  Duty calls me to Nuevo Pueblo, and you shall return with me as the guest of my government.  Dios!  It is a miserable train, but you shall occupy the coach and travel as befits a queen of beauty—­like a royal princess with her guard of honor.”  He rose to his feet, but his eagerness soon gave place to disappointment.

“Thank you,” said Alaire, “but I must first go to La Feria and get all the facts.”

“Senora!  It is a wretched journey.  See!” He waved a contemptuous gesture at the car, crowded to congestion.  “There is no food; you have no one to wait upon you.  In my company you will be safe.  Upon my honor you will enjoy the highest courtesy—­”