"A strange contempt for opportunity seems ever to have been your make-up. As in manhood, so in your youth. Alfredo, during those three years at Pilar you blew a kiss to me from the parade ground; or, was it twice? or, perhaps thrice? or, even more. A valiant conquistador-in-the-making, disregarding barrier, would have reached the topmost span of that forbidding cloister, to salute the lips of the watching maiden at closer range than fifty paces. "But to return to later times. If Britain possesses California, a viceroyship must go to some one. You shrugged when I spoke of tossing it to you; yet, it is a catch for which many an ambitious caballero would stretch ready hands." "I am not ambition's fool, neither am I without ambition. If I rise, my own feet shall lift me, step by step," in his voice a ring of challenge. "In other words, you prefer to protect the flocks of rich herdsmen against marauding aborigine--if not in California, elsewhere. No?" "Silvia, let us cease this exchange of words. We have much in common. Come with me. Be my household queen. In coming here to-day not the least in my thought was the wish to take you away from the politics of the world. Come, Silvia, come." "And, over there--in the distance--beyond the shadows--would be my ideal calling to me, chiding me, telling me of my unfaithfulness. No, Alfredo, I lie to myself no longer. "The other morning, as I left your official sitting room in San José, the King's Highway to Monterey became another road to Damascus. The scales fell from my eyes, as they did from Saul of Tarsus. I cursed myself for the lie to which I had sworn in the sanctuary of my soul--the lie making you, Alfredo Morando, the personification of my ideal. "I lashed my horse. I wished--I even prayed--that the beast might spring to the rocky depths of the cañon at my side, that I might find release in the parting of my body and its soul." "Señora Valentino, the artist sometimes so arranges the lights and shades on his sitter that he brings in relief certain lineaments to the obscuring of others, producing, often, a fancy picture rather than a portrait. Your delineation of my character, emphasizing certain points, neglecting others, seems to be hardly fair. But, doña, I scorn the pleader's place. I admit my unworthiness. Your word, then--is final?" arising and taking up his cap, dignity vesting speech and manner. "Yes, Alfredo, final--final. Go, continue to be a comandante-protector of sheep. Gallop across the plains to Mission San José. Improvise dawdling love-songs, twangle the guitar, and strut about by the light of the moon. The Señorita de la Mendoza may again dance El Son, to bring you to her side. No longer will I keep you from her, with the vain hope that, in the capitals of the nations, you and I, uniting our mentalities and working hand in hand, might have no small part in the history-making of our generation. Good-by, Alfredo." She extended her hand.