Notwithstanding my embarrassment, it was most blissful to watch my dear girl flush and glow, and to see her lovely eyes glisten with love and pride, as Pike went on and on, contriving to cast a glamour over the most commonplace of my qualities and deeds. As may be surmised, my feelings were directly opposite to those which racked Don Pedro and Dona Marguerite. Nothing, I imagine, could have given them greater annoyance than this pouring of the oil of incense upon the flame of my lady's love. Yet Pike swept gallantly on, innocent of all offence, while our host and hostess turned steadily colder beneath their forced smiles, and I flushed hotter with blissful shame, and Malgares lolled back, with a _cigarrito_ between his fingers, his fine face impassive, but his eyes drinking all in with utmost amusement. At last, after one or two vain efforts to divert the conversation, Dona Marguerite asked Malgares if he was not intending to take us around to see our other friends. The hint was unmistakable. As we rose to leave, our hostess deftly interposed the rampart of her plump figure between Alisanda and myself. Our parting was restricted to a single exchange of glances. That I should leave with this and no more was beyond my endurance. As we bowed to Don Pedro at the head of the stairway, a sudden resolve came to me. I signed to the others to go on, and addressed our host: "Senor, my friends will pardon my desertion of them. I desire the favor of a private talk with you." The frown which had creased his forehead at my first word vanished at the last. He had thought I intended to ask for a private interview with Alisanda. "At your service, Don Juan," he at once responded. I drew aside until he had bowed my friends down the stairway and out of sight. He then turned to me, with a grave smile, and, taking my arm, led me away from the _sala_ to his private cabinet, a small but elegantly furnished room in the far corner of the mansion. But I was not interested in the paintings by Titian, Velasquez, and Murillo which decorated the rough-plastered walls, and to which he called my attention with excusable pride. "Senor," I said, "these pictures are beautiful,--they show the skill of master artists. But my whole being thrills with the matchless beauty and grace of a living work of art,--the masterpiece of the Master of masters, of God Himself!" "Juan!" he cried, "forgive me! I know now how you love her. Yet it is impossible. If I dared give way to my personal regard for you, you should have her. Believe me, I speak only the truth. But my country--for the sake of its freedom, its welfare, I am resolved to give all--even her!" "Even her!" I answered. "Then give her to me! I will fight for your country,--I will pledge my life in the cause of freedom! What more can you ask? Your country shall be my country; your cause my cause!"