"Atila, please bring us coffee and some of those dulces for which Alfonsa, the cook, is so famous." The girl soon reappeared with a small table covered with a white cloth, and on which was dainty china ready for the serving. A pot of steaming coffee and a plate of freshly made sweet cake were added. A small vase of purple violets furnished adornment. Gentle breezes stole into the room, carrying with them the nestling of the leaves in the patio and the perfume of the growing things. "What a land of enchantment you have at your very side!" indicating the out-of-doors. "Sometimes I fancy this to be a wishing-chair," indicating the one on which she was sitting. "Then the patio becomes unique. I often sit by the hour, and frame around it pictures of life as I would like to live it. That space outside is transformed into a jungle, the birds, my brothers and sisters, while the riotous colors embellish the leafy homes of the little people. Sweet woodsy odors refresh me, and I repose in the shady recesses, my heart singing the songs of Utopialand." "Most pleasing fancies, indeed, my señora." "They are my refuge. I lose myself in fancyland to crowd out other and unhappy memories." Her eyes grew troubled. Her face lost its curves of power. "My dear Señora Valentino," began the soldier, his chivalry touched, "your husband is gone from you, but----" Her gesture stopped him. "I anticipate your words, Captain. It is not what I have lost that makes me sad. It is the absence of what forms the warp and woof of a woman's life, the things I have never had." "What they can be I do not know, señora. I cannot imagine a life more filled than yours, except for the loss of----" Again her gesture left his sentence incomplete. "Captain Morando, forgive me if I say such words mock me." "Señora, the world is at your feet. The bravest and the proudest court your smiles. At that ball in Madrid I saw our commander lead you to the king, and together they bowed over your hand, while the multitude applauded. Can you not even now hear them? 'Viva! Viva! the fairest and gentlest in the kingdom! Viva! Señora Valentino!'" "Not that, Captain; not that," deprecatingly. "Praise from the lips fills not the heart. Five years ago a prima donna thrilled all Europe. King and subject alike did her homage. In Paris the noble were honored by drawing her carriage to the opera house, having detached the horses. Yet last year she died alone and heartbroken." "But for you, my dear lady!" "It almost overcomes me, Captain, when I look back over my life. I rarely have courage to do so." She knit her brows. "You know Señora Barcelo is my half sister only?" abruptly. "No, I did not."