"To hell with the women! We will go, and no one need guess we have gone together. I will send Victorio with a letter to San Pedro for a boat. Your lips for that promise!" "When the boat is in the harbor, and the jewels in my hand, Rafael," she replied, and darted like a bird through the door, and out into the garden. Later she came into the refectory with an armful of lilies,--symbols of innocence,--and asked Ana for an olla for them, and was very demure and sweetly appealing for the rest of the day. [Illustration: "EACH WAY HE TURNED HE MET AN ALTAR OR A PRIEST"] [Music: _La Noche esta Serena_.] La noche 'sta serena, tranquillo el aquilon, Tu dulce sentinella, te guarda il corazon, Y en alas de los zefiros, que vagan por doquier, Volando van mis suplicas, a ti bella mujer, Volando van mis suplicas, a ti bella mujer! De un corazon que te ama, recibe el tier no amor, No anmentes mas la llama, Piedad a un trobadour, Y si te mueve a lastima, Mi eterno padecer, Como te amo amame, bellisima mujer, Como te amo amame, bellisima mujer! [Music] CHAPTER XXI What Padre Libertad saw or heard he did not particularize. But when Keith Bryton, the day of the Spanish dance, had arisen and dressed, and talked a little with all those known to him in the Mission, except the mistress of it, the bearded priest closed the door on them all, and came and sat beside him. "To-morrow, my friend, we go," he said. "Can I--will she speak to me--once?" "What is there to say to a woman like that? God! To think that such a one should be Rafael Arteaga's wife!" "No," agreed the other; "there is nothing to be said. Only I would like to see her face once, even though she should not know it. Could that be?" "It is not wise; it sends you away with more of a heartache; but there is one place she goes each evening as the stars come out. There is one saint left in one niche of the old ruin. Since she rode with us from the hills, flowers are always there, and she goes from her own chapel there--to pray, perhaps. She has not said so, but--" "I can see her there. Will you--will you try to manage that no one else comes? Oh, it will be brief enough, even if we speak. But the statue in the niche--I can't remember." "It is in the shadow. The draperies of red are very faded, and so is the gilt of the embroideries now. Once it was very gorgeous, and it is called Maria Madalena." Keith turned on the speaker with flaming eyes. "She kneels there to pray--_she_? What mad fanaticism is that? Good God, man! _she_ is the soul of innocence!" "What she knows of her own heart, she knows, my friend. This is not the thing to tell a man who is to her what you are; but there is--there may be some day, a thing that will leave her free; and if it come--" Keith had covered his face with his hands. The weakness of the illness was still on him; he durst not leave his eyes unguarded. But after a little he looked up.