For the first time Longorio spoke roughly: "I lose patience. In God's name have I not waited long enough? My strength is gone." Impulsively he half encircled her with his thin arms, but she seemed armored with ice, and he dropped them. She could hear him grind his teeth. "I dare not lay hands upon you," he chattered. "Angel of my dreams, I am faint with longing. To love you and yet to be denied; to feel myself aflame and yet to see you cold; to be halted at the very doors of Paradise! What torture!" The fellow's self-control in the midst of his frenzy frightened Alaire more than did his wildest avowals; it was in something of a panic that she said: "One moment you tell me I am safe, the next you threaten me. You say I am free, and yet you coerce me. Prove your love. Let me go--" "No! No! I shall call the priest." Longorio turned toward the door, but halfway across the floor he was halted by a woman's shriek which issued from somewhere inside the house. It was repeated. There was an outburst in a masculine voice, then the patter of footsteps approaching down the tiled hallway. Dolores burst into her mistress's presence, her face blanched, her hair disordered. She flung herself into Alaire's arms, crying: "Senora! Save me! God's curse on the ruffian. Oh--" "Dolores!" Alaire exclaimed. "What has happened?" Longorio demanded, irritably: "Yes. Why are you yelling like this:"' "A man--See I One of those dirty peladors. Look where he tore my dress! I warned him, but he was like a tiger. Benito will kill me when he learns--" "Calm yourself. Speak sensibly. Tell me what happened." "One of those miserable soldiers who came today--pig!" Dolores was shaking, her voice was shrill. "He followed me. He has been drinking. He followed me about like a cat, purring and grinning and saying the most horrible things. Just now, when I went to your room, he was waiting in the darkness and he seized me. God! It was dreadful." "A soldier? One of my men?" Longorio was incredulous. Alaire turned upon him with a blazing anger in her face. "Is this more of your protection?" she stormed. "I give you and your men the freedom of my ranch, and you insult me while they assault my women." He ignored her accusation, inquiring of the elder woman, "Who was the fellow?" "How do I know," Dolores sobbed. "He is a--a thick, black fellow with a scar on his lip, like a snarl." "Felipe!" "Yes, Felipe! I believe they called him that." Longorio strode to the end of the livingroom, flung open the wooden shutters of a window and, leaning far out, whistled sharply on his fingers. "Oiga! Teniente! Ho, you fellows!" he shouted. From the darkness a voice answered; a man, evidently on guard, came running. "Call old Pancho," the general directed. "Tell him to bring me black Felipe, the fellow with the torn lip. Quick!" "Yes, general," came the voice; then the metallic rattle of spurs and accoutrements as the sentry trotted away.