Part 21

"But that is not all," interrupted Señora. "There is also Captain Forest, Mrs. Forest's son. He came here before the others and seemed very much surprised and put out by their unexpected appearance."

"Captain Forest?" repeated Don Felipe slowly, as if trying to recall a chance meeting. "I have never met him. What is he like?"

"Ah, he's a grand Señor," answered Señora with enthusiasm. "A Caballero every inch, and rides a horse that's the devil himself. Why, only yesterday the brute kicked out the side of the corral, and after chasing the men off the place who had been teasing him, calmly walked into the garden and rolled in my choicest flower-bed."

"He must be a thoroughbred at any rate," laughed Felipe.

"Thoroughbred? He's the devil, I say! Captain Forest and his man, José, are the only ones that dare go near him." Don Felipe drew a gold cigarette-case thickly studded with diamonds and rubies from the inner pocket of his jacket, and lighted a cigarette.

"As I was saying," Señora went on, "Captain Forest is a fine gentleman. He's a great friend of Señor Yankton, and--" she stopped abruptly.

"And what?" asked Felipe suspiciously, closely scanning her face as he tossed away the burnt end of the match.

"Oh, nothing," answered Señora evasively. "Only much has transpired during your absence, Don Felipe." She hesitated as though uncertain how to proceed, then said: "I might speak of certain things, but perhaps I had better not. They would not interest you, anyway."

"Ah!" he said at length, endeavoring to conceal the emotion her words aroused. "I--I think I understand. You--you refer to her, I suppose?" There was a slight tremor in his voice and his hand trembled as he raised his cigarette to his lips for a fresh puff.

"Yes," she answered quietly. "I--I was about to say that she appears to be interested in this Captain Forest. But of course, that's nothing to you," she added hastily, watching him narrowly the while. Her words acted like fire to tinder.

"Interested in him?" he cried, starting violently and letting his cigarette fall to the ground. His face grew ashen pale and his right hand involuntarily went to the knife in his sash. "No, no, it cannot be!" he muttered excitedly. "Are you sure of what you say, Doña Fernandez? Tell me that it is not true--that it is a lie!" he almost hissed, his eyes glowing with the fires of passion and jealousy.

"Why, what has come over you, Don Felipe Ramirez?" cried Señora in alarm. "Surely you cannot--she can be nothing to you any more?"

"Nothing to me? Why do you suppose I am here?" he answered.

"Madre de Dios!" muttered Señora.

"Doña Fernandez," he began after a pause, his voice trembling in spite of himself, "God knows I have tried to forget her, but I--I cannot!" and his voice broke.

"What?" cried Señora excitedly. "You don't really mean to say that you still--love her?"

"I do," answered Felipe fiercely, driving his heel furiously into the ground. For some moments neither spoke. Then a flush of anger mounted to Señora's brow and she cried:

"Fie! Don Felipe! Have you forgotten your self-respect? The handsomest, richest man in all Chihuahua running after an Indian--the woman who treated you so shamefully--an ingrate who is unworthy of a love like yours? If I could have had my way, she would have been whipped publicly! What would Don Juan, your father, peace be to his soul, say if he were alive? Love her!" she cried in a frenzy of hatred and jealousy. "How can you possibly love her, Don Felipe Ramirez?"

"How can I love her?" retorted Felipe fiercely. "Why does the grass grow? Why do the birds sing? Why do the streams run to the ocean? Why do the flowers turn to the sun? Tell me that, Doña Fernandez," he cried in agony and bitterness, "and I will tell you why I love her in spite of myself, in spite of what she did, in spite of every effort I have made to resist her fascination! God!" and he struck his breast with his clenched hand, "I wonder I did not kill her then and there, but I could not, I could not; I loved her so!"

"Dios, but this is strange!" gasped Señora, raising both hands for an instant and then crossing herself devoutly as if to avert the power of some evil--the spell which seemed to cling to Don Felipe and bind him as with hoops of steel. She did not realize that Chiquita belonged to that rare type of beings who seem immortal; that it was impossible to imagine her other than young, that the years could work no change within her, and although Felipe had not yet seen her, his soul must flame up at the sight of her as of yore.

Felipe was silent, his eyes cast on the ground. His face wore a malignant expression of pain and hatred, and he trembled in every limb.

The revelation of his anguish startled her. She stepped close up to him and laying her hand gently on his shoulder, said in a voice full of compassion, almost of pity: "I understand, Don Felipe! You still see her as she was when you last knew her--it is but natural. Of course you could not know, but she has changed since then. In the opinion of every one, she has fallen, degraded herself."

"Degraded herself? What do you mean?" asked Felipe, turning his searching gaze upon her.

"Only a fortnight ago," answered Señora, "on the great day of the Fiesta, she danced publicly in Carlos Moreno's theater."

"Chiquita danced in Carlos Moreno's hall? Impossible!"

"Don Felipe," replied Señora with just the suggestion of a smile, "all things are possible with a woman."

"But why did she dance?" he asked.

"I don't know; neither does any one else. They say she received three thousand pesos in gold."