"The geography of nations in our Western world must soon change, under the influence of the democratic idea. As certain as the sun rose this morning and now urges to the setting, will either the American or the English flag float from the staff within our courtyard before our province has seen but a few more years of life." "But," hesitatingly from the girl, "will you not fight against this aggression?" "No; nor could I stem the tide if I did. The logic of events grinds, as do the mills of the gods, exceeding fine. In the great world battle between people and potentate, victory, final and complete, will rest one day with the people. The cost of that battle will be measured in centuries of time, the blood of nations, the sacrifice of warriors and statesmen. Runnymede, in the south of England, in the year 1215, saw the beginning of the conflict when the people forced King John to sign the Magna Charta!" "History speaks of the family de la Mendoza as made up of warriors. Your own name, father mine, is mentioned, and not as the least, yet you will never speak to me of any battle." He pointed to a small painting. It depicted Waterloo. "I'd give my experience of all the battles I've seen could I have stood there that evening with Wellington, on Mount Saint Jean, when the sun of day had set and Napoleon's sun of destiny with it. I would have rejoiced to have chased the emperor of the French over the plowed field at night, as does a hound drive the hare. Yet--what matters it all? As well for Napoleon to rule, or misrule, as for any other tyrant, be he anointed king or not. The day of the people comes, and I rejoice." "Shall we follow new ways and customs then, my father?" "Quite possibly. And yet, think you not it a pretty custom when the Spaniard comes with his guitar and improvises sweet music outside the embrasure window of the señorita? No?" The doña blushed rosy red. "What a papacito!" kissing him to cover her confusion. "How shall the señorita inside the embrasure prevent the music-inclined caballero on the outside from touching the strings of his guitar?" Mendoza laughed while looking fondly at his daughter. "You ask me how the doña may discourage the suitor? Ah, little one, how can I tell you? The claws show sharp and repelling, or presto! all is soft and smooth as velvet. What works the wonder, ask you? Ah, Carmelita mia! Lolita Hernandez is not the only minx in the world." The girl playfully tugged at her father's thick hair. "What a father is mine! He has seen all things and has accomplished all things," changing the subject. "Has ever there been an ungratified wish in your life, except the one to chase the emperor of the French across plowed fields? If so, now is your chance. I will be your fairy godmother. Come, make your wish, and, behold! It is done." She had slipped from the chair and standing, held her arms extended over him. "Make your wish now," laughingly.