Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

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50 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE He came toward them quite tamely and delivered his flowers to Isabella with a bow sufficiently low, but like a burden to be gotten rid of. She took them, this symbol of the hills, but his ungraciousness had robbed them of their scent. His bearing, too, dampened the ardor of her little court, who gradually dropped away, leaving Isabella and Olivia to him — in irony. Yet the man was capable of being loved and feared, both strongly, for there had been occasions when his abstracted eyes had flashed like a falcon's and his voice had shrilled trumpet-wise. This they remembered. Now he strolled thru the gardens with the ladies, stiff as any ramrod. Isabella swayed slightly to the beat of distant music in the galeria. Olivia was thoughtful — perhaps she had not done well in suppressing the purpose of the letter, and knew it. At any rate, she stopped to gather an April debutante, a blush rose, and then sped swiftly down a cross-path, alone. They did not appear to notice her desertion (in' their hearts they had blessed her discretion) and walked blindly on. ''Well," she said suddenly, "what do you think of him?" "I presume you mean Neustra Excelencia, el Supremo Gobemador?" he said, over her head. "Yes, whom else?" 1 ' I haven 't made up my mind yet, ' ' he said, slowly. "He is an interesting study." She turned on him fiercely. "Are men only insects to be studied and put under glass?" she asked. "Sometimes we have to run a pin thru them first." ' ' Ah, there you have it ! " she cried, the rich red climbing in her cheeks. He faced her, smiling at something. "What a delicate difference between the words traitor and hero," he propounded; "that little thing — success. I feel it in me to stand out on the plaza tonight and to shout 'Viva la Libertad ! 'until I am black in the face. I would be a hero — an inspiring one — until I was shot, which you would have the principal duty of one, it seems. ' ' The warm color left her cheeks. She eyed him thoughtfully. "I once read a book from the English," she said, "called 'The Battle of the Books.' Of a truth, you would cut a pretty figure in it — using your sword to slit pages. ' ' "No man has ever impugned my bravery, ' ' he said, his eyes glinting. "He might not suspect you of it," she laughed; "you keep it so well hidden." "Gracias! I do not wear it on my sleeve, as some do," he gloomed, and so coming out in the midst of the dancers, their talk, at cross-purposes, ended. He gave her up to a dancing partner, and looked on at the pretty scene, out of sorts. Later on Olivia sought him out to accompany her home. His cavaliering was very ceremonious. "Well," she said at her door, "what way have you made with her?" "Senorita, my cousinx" he said sourly, "I can tell you, as an end to it, she is not of my kind." "What do you expect?" she persisted. "A true woman, no trifler!" he jerked out; "one who can pick out a king-bird from the jays — a mother of patriots. ' ' "Come into my patio a moment," she said. ' ' I want to show you something." He followed her, like one whose idol had been cast down. "This is the dearest of secrets," she admonished: and forthwith drew out Isabella's letter from her sash. Juan read it. "And s-she has written this?" he stammered, the glint coming into his eyes. "No other," affirmed Olivia. "Nor does not know of the night musters at Los Nietos, and my rabble of a command ? ' ' "She knows nothing." "You have turned my sea-water into intoxicating wine, ' ' he said, bowing over her hand. "God grant that I be worthy of her!"