Don Anabel was feared and respected by his servants, his tenants, and his family. Indulgent in all that made for material comfort, he exacted a deference, not only towards himself as head of the family, but among one another. He was autocrat and despot, and though his courtesy was as exquisite as that of any courtier diplomat of the outside world, his discipline was harsh; cruel even. He had never whipped his children, but had punished Luis, when he was a naughty, wilful, kicking child, in ways that made the lad subservient, secretive. For who would court a bath in the snow in winter merely to practice the dubious virtue of truthfulness? He was stoic, for who would cry when water was poured down his throat till he drowned, strangled, and his screams and throbbing head were drenched to shuddering, smothered sobs. Perhaps the example of Indian discipline had had its effect on Don Anabel, although towards his small daughter he practiced no such heroic measures. Yet they were not necessary. Fear of her father’s displeasure was sufficient to still one of Consuelo’s tantrums. His solemn entrance upon the scene of biting, scratching, shrieking, spitting, and other infantile atrocities was enough to secure trembling silence, proper behavior, and the obedient reception of oil of the castor bean, or whatever else it was that aroused Consuelo’s displeasure and her violent _disgusto_. Doña Gertrudis de Chaves y Lopez was exactly the wife for Don Anabel. Her pansy-like beauty when she had come to the hacienda as a bride of sixteen was never marred by tempests. She bloomed, had eight babies, only two of which lived, and grew fat, all without ever questioning her husband’s authority. In her own domain she grew highly excited on important domestic occasions, such as involved the vast responsibility of perfectly bleached sheets, properly seasoned enchiladas, and claret with the venison if the archbishop came to dinner. It was thought due to her common origin that she molested herself with such things, and Doña Gertrudis made a great pretense of never stepping within the kitchen--save us, no! For there were those who said that Doña Gertrudis was not of pure Spanish blood; that her grandmother had been Aztecan, descended from an Aztec lord. You could see for yourself that her hair was not fine and wispy like Don Anabel’s, but heavy, coarse, though lustrous. But no breath of that! Doña Gertrudis was most devout and her devotions occupied a large part of her time. She did, indeed, a great deal of secret good, and followed often behind Don Anabel’s visits to his ranchos with a soft touch to smooth the sternly dispensed justice.