Difficult as Francis had found it to marry the Queen and maintain equanimity, he now found equanimity impossible at the announcement of the immediate marriage of Leoncia. Nor did Leoncia fail to observe how hard he struggled to control himself. His suffering gave her secret joy, and with a feeling almost of triumph she watched him take advantage of the first opportunity to leave the room. Showing them his telegram and assuring them that his fortune was at stake, he said he must get off an answer and asked Fernando to arrange for a rider to carry it to the government wireless at San Antonio. Nor was Leoncia long in following him. In the library she came upon him, seated at the reading table, his telegram unwritten, while his gaze was fixed upon a large photograph of her which he had taken from its place on top the low bookshelves. All of which was too much for her. Her involuntary gasping sob brought him to his feet in time to catch her as she swayed into his arms. And before either knew it their lips were together in fervent expression. Leoncia struggled and tore herself away, gazing upon her lover with horror. “This must stop, Francis!” she cried. “More: you cannot remain here for my wedding. If you do, I shall not be responsible for my actions. There is a steamer leaves San Antonio for Colon. You and your wife must sail on it. You can easily catch passage on the fruit boats to New Orleans and take train to New York. I love you!—you know it.” “The Queen and I are not married!” Francis pleaded, beside himself, overcome by what had taken place. “That heathen marriage before the Altar of the Sun was no marriage. In neither deed nor ceremony are we married. I assure you of that, Leoncia. It is not too late——” “That heathen marriage has lasted you thus far,” she interrupted him with quiet firmness. “Let it last you to New York, or, at least, to ... Colon.” “The Queen will not have any further marriage after our forms,” Francis said. “She insists that all her female line before her has been so married and that the Sun Altar ceremony is sacredly binding.” Leoncia shrugged her shoulders non-committally, although her face was stern with resolution. “Marriage or no,” she replied, “you must go—to-night—the pair of you. Else I shall go mad. I warn you: I shall not be able to withstand the presence of you. I cannot, I know I cannot, be able to stand the sight of you while I am being married to Henry and after I am married to Henry.—Oh, please, please, do not misunderstand me. I do love Henry, but not in the ... not in that way ... not in the way I love you. I—and I am not ashamed of the boldness with which I say it—I love Henry about as much as you love the Queen; but I love you as I should love Henry, as you should love the Queen, as I know you do love me.” She caught his hand and pressed it against her heart. “There! For the last time! Now go!”