There was a delicate expectancy in her manner that she nevertheless contrived to make compatible with her native modesty. Felipe had been her acknowledged lover ever since the two were children. "Well?" cried Martiarena as Felipe hesitated. Even then, if Felipe could have collected his wits, he might have saved the situation for himself. But no time had been allowed him to think. Confusion seized upon him. All that was clear in his mind were the last words of Rubia. It seemed to him that between his lips he carried a poison deadly to Buelna above all others. Stupidly, brutally he precipitated the catastrophe. "No," he exclaimed seriously, abruptly drawing his hand from Buelna's, "no. It may not be. I cannot." Martiarena stared. Then: "Is this a jest, senor?" he demanded. "An ill-timed one, then." "No," answered Felipe, "it is not a jest." "But, Felipe," murmured Buelna. "But--why--I do not understand." "I think I begin to," cried Martiarena. "Senor, you do not," protested Felipe. "It is not to be explained. I know what you believe. On my honour, I love Buelna." "Your actions give you the lie, then, young man. Bah! Nonsense. What fool's play is all this? Kiss him, Buelna, and have done with it." Felipe gnawed his nails. "Believe me, oh, believe me, Senor Martiarena, it must not be." "Then an explanation." For a moment Felipe hesitated. But how could he tell them the truth--the truth that involved Rubia and his disloyalty, temporary though that was. They could neither understand nor forgive. Here, indeed, was an _impasse_. One thing only was to be said, and he said it. "I can give you no explanation," he murmured. But Buelna suddenly interposed. "Oh, please," she said, pushing by Felipe, "uncle, we have talked too long. Please let us go. There is only one explanation. Is it not enough already?" "By God, it is not!" vociferated the old man, turning upon Felipe. "Tell me what it means. Tell me what this means." "I cannot." "Then I will tell _you_!" shouted the old fellow in Felipe's face. "It means that you are a liar and a rascal. That you have played with Buelna, and that you have deceived me, who have trusted you as a father would have trusted a son. I forbid you to answer me. For the sake of what you were I spare you now. But this I will do. Off of my rancho!" he cried. "Off my rancho, and in the future pray your God, or the devil, to whom you are sold, to keep you far from me." "You do not understand, you do not understand," pleaded Felipe, the tears starting to his eyes. "Oh, believe me, I speak the truth. I love your niece. _I love Buelna_. Oh, never so truly, never so devoutly as now. Let me speak to her; she will believe me." But Buelna, weeping, had ridden on. II. UNZAR