“You are mad!” she gasped.

“No, no.  We’ll slip through one of the French windows, and we’ll be back again before they miss us.  Nobody will know.  I tell you they’re waiting.  If we are missed they’ll think—­it doesn’t matter what they think, you’ll be my wife, and Ramon can’t marry you then.  We’ll say nothing about it until your father is elected President.”

“Senor, one cannot be married in a moment.  I am Catholic—­the banns—­”

“I’ve thought of all that, but a civil marriage is binding.  We’ll have the religious ceremony afterward; meanwhile this will stop Ramon, at least.  I promise not to see you again until you send for me, until your father’s hopes are realized.  You may wait as long as you wish, and nobody will know.  They tricked you, Chiquita dear; I can’t explain, but it wasn’t all politics, by any means.  Oh, girl!  Don’t you understand, I love you—­love you?  It’s our only chance.”  The words were tumbling from his lips incoherently; he was pleading as if for his life, while she clung to him to support herself.  Through it all their feet moved rhythmically, their bodies swayed to the cadences of the waltz as they circled the ballroom.  He guided her among the other whirling figures, under the very eyes of her father and her fiance, while more than one of the onlookers commented upon the handsome appearance of these young people, the one so stalwart and blond and Northern, the other so chic and dark and tropical.

He knew it was her lifelong loyalty, her traditional sense of obedience, that made her hesitate.

“It was treachery to both of us,” he urged; “they imposed upon your father, but when he has won he’ll forgive us.  I know what I’m saying; Mrs. Cortlandt told me to-night.”

“Mother of God!” she exclaimed, faintly.  “Is it that I am dreaming?”

“They are waiting for us; the dance is half over already.  I love you—­better than all the world.  Do you remember two nights ago?  You kissed me then, and—­I—­I can’t live without you.  We’ll go away together, you and I, through all the world—­just we two.”  She trembled against him.  “Quick!” he cried in her ear.  “We’re coming to the spot.  They can’t see us now.  If you feel weak, hold to my arm until we are outside.”

She gave a hysterical, choking sob that was half a sigh; then her eyes flashed upward to his—­they were wide and bright and shining—­ her lips were parted, her body was lithe and full of life.  She slipped from his embrace, whispering: 

“Yes, yes!  Quickly, senor!” And the next instant they were out upon the wide gallery with the dance behind them.  “Hurree, hurree!  Or they will follow.”

Together they fled along the north wing of the hotel; the girl was panting, with one hand held to her bare throat; but there was no need for him to help her, for she ran like a fawn.

“Here!” He swung her around the corner and rapped sharply at a door.