"Yes. I tried to cheat myself. I lied to myself about you. I kept you on a pedestal for my worshiping. You, Captain Morando, are nothing to me, but the man, the ideal man, whom I hoped was inclosed in that goodly form of yours, he it is whom I love." Her tones were low and even. "Señora, it is to me a regret that your ideal has been so misplaced." "It is but one more link in that chain of disillusionment--my life. I suppose I should not complain. What does it matter?" Her words betokened a resignation which her glowing eyes did not verify. The Captain moved his chair closer to her and took her hand. "Señora, though disillusionment has passed me by, disappointment has not. Let us make common cause, and fight the battle of life together. Wounds quiver and smart in the past of both of us. Why not let the future in years of devotion each to the other, bring consoling balm to these wounds?" Her hand remained in his, but she did not speak. "Señora--Silvia--let us go away from here, and, in the quiet of home life, let time do its work in scattering into forgetfulness the ashes of old heartburnings." "And what of my lost ideal, Alfredo?" "Señora doña, theory is one thing, fact another; and life is fact. Why not accept things as they are?" "Many would say you speak well. And yet--rather than sacrifice my ideal would I choose to sleep forever at the bottom of the sea." "Señora, do you believe that ideals are ever realized in this world?" "Perhaps not. But, to come from abstract thought to concrete application. When the señorita of the window pane looked down on the parade ground facing old Pilar Convent the place widened into fields of conquest. The flashing sword in the hand of her cadet-officer became a marshal's baton, the sword-belt, a viceroy's sash. Her eaglet would fly straight-winged into the face of the sun. Though storms above the clouds might whirl him like a dried and broken branch, and hurl him back to earth, yet ever upward would be his purpose. Don Alfredo, have you ever tried your wings? Don't speak, soldier. I will answer for you. Like the pet chick, pinions folded, have you been content with hopping fences--the eaglet-cadet a village comandante." "I am fulfilling my duty to the best of my ability." She drew her hand away, and looked him squarely in the face. "Fulfilling duty! Alfredo, you exhaust my patience. I have power; I have influence, I have standing at the court of Saint James. Under Lord Aberdeen's written promise to me, would he make high place for you in Europe, or in vast India. You yawned. My offer was unconsidered.