One result of my pondering of the tangled situation was the resolve to keep from my friend all that concerned myself alone. He had enough and to spare of anxieties and difficulties over the safety of himself and his men, without becoming involved in my private affairs. At the least, his concern for my safety and happiness would have tended to interfere with the observations and notes which we hoped would be of such great value to our country.

The following morning being Sunday, I went early to the Parroquia, thinking to visit Father Rocus, should I fail to meet Alisanda again. This last was barely within the bounds of my fondest expectations, and I was accordingly more grieved than surprised when she failed to appear. As I was going out, a few minutes before the close of the service, a rather well-dressed woman in the archway mumbled an appeal for alms.

Struck by her lack of dirt and tatters, I stopped. She repeated her appeal, this time in a clear tone, though without opening the veiling folds of her rebozo. It seemed to me I recognized the voice of Chita. At once I held out a coin to her. In reaching for it, she covered my hand with the edge of her rebozo, beneath which I felt a note being slipped into my palm.

She turned away, with a shrill blessing upon the generous Inglese, while I dropped my half-closed hand to my side, thrust it into my pocket and left the note, to draw out a copper for the foremost of the wretched leprosos who came flocking about the rich foreigner. This time I was provided with a quantity of the smallest coins of the realm, and scattered two or three handfuls to right and left. While the beggars swarmed after the coppers like a flock of fowls over their grain, I slipped around the nearest corner of the church to read my precious note. It was short but full of promise:—

"Do not go to the promenade. Feign illness. The Parroquia at nine o'clock to-night."

The Parroquia?—at nine in the evening? It was an appointment to meet her! Yet how could she escape the watchful eyes of DoÑa Marguerite and Don Pedro, even should they, as was most improbable, take her out to the promenade?

However, I concluded that I could safely trust to her wit and courage to bring about the meeting. My problem was how to fill the weary hours and minutes which lay between. I wandered aimlessly about the city, stopping now and then to watch the gambling with dice and cards, which, though prohibited by His Excellency, is too deeply seated in the natures of these people to be eradicated.

Intense as were these games, where men and even women staked their little all with passionate abandon, the excitement was far greater and the betting higher at the numerous cock-fights. I looked on at one,—which was enough and to spare. Man has a right to kill for food, but none other than the cruel and brutal enjoys the torment of his fellow creatures.

A gay dinner at the house of DoÑa Maria Cabrera helped to pass over the day until the siesta. But throughout the long hours of the afternoon rest I could only lie and swelter and eat up my heart with longing and anxiety. So heated and restless did I become that when Walker waked he inquired whether I had a fever.

This gave me my opening, and I stated my condition at some length, in medical language which impressed him much while telling him nothing. Even Pike was deceived by my statement, but I assured him that I should be quite well by morning if I abstained from the usual round of calls and the evening in the promenade. After condoling with me and explaining my indisposition to the numerous friends who called, they at last heeded my request for quiet, and went off to spread the news of my illness.

Between then and the twilight, the few who called were permitted to peep in and see me dozing on my mattress, with my head swathed about in wet towels. But after la oracion, old CÆsar had his orders to stop all on the threshold of the outer room, and explain that I was not to be disturbed.

A full hour before the time set, I borrowed one of Walker's circular cloaks, and shadowed my face in my wide sombrero. After explaining to CÆsar that I needed a breath of fresh air, but that he should say nothing about my absence unless his master or Lieutenant Pike came in before my return, I slipped out, unseen by any one else.

The moon having risen, I had need of care to cross the plaza without attracting attention. Fortunately it was too early for an encounter with the soldiers of the night patrols, who would have required me to give my countersign. Arriving at the Parroquia, I stationed myself in the dense shadow around the corner of the farther tower, and waited with such scant patience as I could command.

Now and then persons passed by in the plaza, singly or in couples or in groups. None caught sight of me, yet I could see them with perfect distinctness, and as I considered this, I was seized with the fear that Alisanda would inevitably be detected before she could reach my side.

From the first I had kept my gaze fixed in the direction of the Vallois mansion, and had watched with eagerness the approach of all the gowned figures that came either alone or in pairs. As the time drew near, I became more restless and could not keep so steady a watch. More than once I had to turn to look about at all quarters of the plaza.

It was during one of these chance glances that I was astonished to see my lady approaching the church from the direction of the promenade. She was accompanied by Father Rocus and Chita.

When they came opposite me, I ventured a slight cough, but they went by without stopping. It was otherwise with a group of young gallants, who paused to stare at the graceful figure of my lady until she and the padre and Chita had disappeared into the yawning entrance of the Parroquia. The young beaux had at once guessed the identity of the seÑorita, notwithstanding her veiling mantilla, and they stood within twenty feet of me, discussing her lovely charms as we would name over the fine points of a pedigreed horse.

Meanwhile I fretted and fumed, in a swelter of impatience. No doubt my lady was waiting for me and wondering at my delay! At last I was on the point of stepping out boldly to follow her, when Chita came scuffling out of the church, bent over like an old crone. She passed the young men, muttering and grumbling, and tottered half sideways around into the shadow. I caught her outstretched hand, and she led me quickly back along the flank of the towering edifice.

We stopped before the dim outline of a little door. Chita tapped upon the panel, and stepped away a few paces, to stand with her back to me. A moment later the door swung open, without a sound, and a dark figure appeared.

"Alisanda!" I whispered.

"Juan!" she replied, stepping nearer.

Ah, the rapture of that moment! Hers was no half love, to shrink with false shame. As I clasped her in my arms, her own arms slipped about my neck in tender embrace, and her lips met mine in a kiss of purest passion. Our hearts throbbed together in ecstasy. She drew back her head to gaze at me through the shadow.

"Juan! Juan! my knight! Oh, the joy of leaning upon your dear breast! I could swoon for joy!"

"Tell me you love me!" I demanded.

"Juan! Can you doubt it? Could you have doubted it from the first—the very first? There in the midst of that miry avenue, when I looked out the coach window into the windows of your soul,—then it was, my knight—"

"Then?" I questioned, my astonishment as great as my delight—"then, dearest heart? You perceived the love, the adoration which filled my whole being at my first view of your lovely face! You knew I would serve you and love you forever after!"

"No, dear. I knew you loved me that moment. But I did not know you. I was very proud—I am still very proud. The blood of kings flows in my veins. I had vowed I should wed none other than one of kingly blood. I shall not break that vow."

"Yet my arms are about you, Alisanda. See, I draw you still closer to my heart; I kiss your adorable lips!"

As I eased my embrace a little, she sighed, and her head sank upon my shoulder.

"Wait, dearest," she murmured. "Such ecstasy goes beyond my strength."

"Alisanda!" I exclaimed, "tell me—you do love me—this is not a dream! I know you are in my arms, yet it is unbelievable—it is not possible that you—!"

"Juan, my king!" she answered.

"That?"

"Yes, that! I believe in nobility of birth, for in that belief I was born and reared. But you have taught me a new belief; you have opened my eyes to see that there are men who are their own ancestors,—men so true and brave and chivalrous that they are kings among their fellows, whatever their birth."

"Beloved," I said, "do not mistake. I am as other men. It was only the love you inspired that gave me strength to win you. I am but an average man. Yet with your love—with your dear self to glorify life for me, it may be I can rise above the average."

"My king," she repeated, woman-like, unmoved by the plain reason of my statement.

"We have no kings in the Republic," I argued.

"But I have a king in my heart! Ah, Juan, if you but knew the fulness of your conquest! Love was in my heart from the first. Love can creep through keyholes. But pride barred the way against your entrance. Did I not mock you and scorn you and look coldly upon you? Yet Love forced me to give you the fighting chance, to put you to the test."

"That was the mystery—the secret of your eyes!" I exclaimed.

"And you had the courage to guess aright, to persevere against all my scorn and hauteur, to cross the barrier of rock and the barrier of pride and birth, into my heart, Juan!"

"Forever in your heart, as you in mine!"

"Forever!"

"When will you wed me, dearest one?"

At the words she quivered and sought to draw away, but I held her fast. "No, Alisanda! I cannot release you until you have told me. When shall we be married?"

"Ah, Juan!" she sighed. "How can I answer you? I fear that it will be never!"

"Never!"

"My uncle has asked me to sacrifice myself for the sake of the revolution."

"By marrying the Viceroy?"

"No!"

"No?—Then whom?"

"The Governor-General."

"Him—Salcedo?—that old tyrant?"

"It is my uncle's wish. He says it would free millions of people, my countrymen."

"Your countrymen? You come from Old Spain! No! And what if that man should sell himself for your beauty? Could such a man be trusted? Yet suppose he held true to his pledge to lead the revolution, and suppose the revolution should triumph, would it not be the triumph of Salcedo? Would this wretched land be less oppressed under Salcedo the King than under Salcedo the Governor-General? Answer me, Alisanda Vallois. You know the man!"

"Madre de los Dolores!—And I would have made the sacrifice for that! Juan, you have given me an answer to my uncle's plea. He may break my heart, but he shall not force me to marry against my wish. Rather than that, I will take the veil."

"Become a nun?" I protested.

"If I may not marry you, Juan."

"But you will marry me, Alisanda—you must!"

"How can I, dear? You have yet to cross the gulf."

"Father Rocus—" I began.

"He has spoken for you on that, yet admits a doubt. Can I wed you while I still think of it as a sin—a marriage against God's will?"

A sudden great fear embittered my rapture and dashed me to the earth.

"Alisanda," I pleaded, "is not our love true love? Can such love be wrong in the sight of God?"

"I have prayed the Virgin for hours without answer to that," she sighed. "And when the holy priest admits a doubt—If I do not come to you with a clear conscience, Juan, I shall be unworthy of your love."

"Leave that to me to judge!"

"No. We must wait, my knight. Rest assured I will not wed another than yourself. Be patient. A few days may see the cutting of the knot. That dangerous man Medina has wormed himself into the council of the revolutionists. It would be like him to turn traitor, and demand me as his price for not betraying the plot."

"Your uncle will give you to him to save his own life!"

"You do my uncle an injustice. He would sooner die. No; I was to be given to Salcedo for the sake of this oppressed land. My uncle would die rather than force misery upon me for other than the sacred cause of liberty."

"I have opened your eyes to the peril of trusting Salcedo. Now what is to be done?"

"Should Medina threaten, my uncle must flee from New Spain."

"Taking you with him! The world is large, dearest one, but wherever he may take you, I will follow."

"If you escape Salcedo!" she whispered, and I felt her tremble.

Before I could answer, the voice of Father Rocus murmured from the little doorway: "My children, you must part now. I brought you away on the plea of faintness, my daughter. I must take you in for a glass of wine, that my servant may bear witness with a clear conscience, and then we must hasten home with you before the return of your kinsfolk."

"But when shall I see her again, padre?" I begged, clinging to my love as she clung to me.

"Sabe Dios!—Quien sabe?" he returned. "We will each and all do what we can. Now we must hasten, for if my share in this be discovered, I shall lose all power to help you."

Reason compelled me to bend to this argument. I strained Alisanda to me, and we exchanged a parting kiss. Chita came up beside us, and the moment I released her mistress, hurried her to the envious doorway.