"Is this your patriotism?" she asked at last. "To throw open your home on a moment's notice, to a stranger from a strange land?" "We call it Americanization," said Eveley. "We call it the assimilation of--of--" She hesitated, not wishing to speak of "flotsam and jetsam" to this soft and pliant creature. "We call it the assimilation of the whole world into American ideals." "Then," said Marie slowly, dark eyes still searching Eveley's face, "I suppose, having this vision of patriotism yourself, you can understand patriotism of others from other lands? You can understand why people plot, and steal, and kill--for love of country? My own land, for instance--so many call us bloody butchers because we fight for our country and for freedom. But you--you know what patriotism is. And you can understand, can you not?" "Of course I understand," said Eveley rather confusedly, for the Mexican business was a terrible muddle to her. "I understand that your men must fight to save their country from the rebels and anarchists who would wreck and ruin her." "Yes, but--it is the rebels and anarchists who would save her," said Marie, with childish earnestness. "I--we--I am of the revolutionists. My father was killed. My brothers were killed. My sisters were made captive. But still the struggle goes on. The best of our men must fight and die. Poor Mexico must struggle and blunder on from one disaster to another, until at last she rises triumphant and free among the nations of the world. It is those in power in her own land from whom Mexico has most to fear--those who would sell her, body and soul, land and loyalty, to foreign devils for gold. It is not against the outside world we fight--it is the vile, the treacherous ones inside our borders." "But how can you tell who is for, and who against?" asked Eveley bewildered. "They all promise so much--and peace is assured--but there is no peace. And who can tell where freedom really lies?" "Alas, it is true," said Marie sadly. "But those with eyes that see and hearts that love, know that Mexico is still in the hands of traitors, and that the spirit of revolution must live." "Of course you know more about it than I do," admitted Eveley. "We--we do not understand the situation at all. I--think perhaps they are too shrewd for us. Let's not talk of it--it excites you, dear. I want you to rest and be quiet. I did not know that any one could love--Mexico--like that." "Have you seen Mexico? Oh, not the dry, barren border country, but my Mexico, rich with jewels and gold, studded with magnificent cities, flowering with rare fruits and spices, a mellow, golden, matchless land, peopled by those who are skilled in arts and science, lovers of beauty, and--Ah, you do not know Mexico. You know only the half-breed savages who run the borderland, preying on Mexican and American alike. You do not know the real Mexico of beautiful women, and brave and gallant men. How could you know?"