She took the sack from his hand and poured back the pearls. Then she laid the sack on the floor and stood up. She was no longer pale, and her eyes shone brilliantly in the darkening room. "Yes," she said; "I forgot for a moment. But during many terrible weeks, señor, my tears have not been for the pearls." The sudden light that was De la Vega's chiefest charm sprang to his eyes. He took her hands and kissed them passionately. "That sack of pearls would be a poor reward for one tear. But thou hast shed them for me? Say that again. Mi alma! mi alma!" "I never thought of the pearls--at least not often. At last, not at all. I have been very unhappy, señor. Ay!" The maiden reserve which had been knit like steel about her plastic years burst wide. "Thou art ill! What has happened to thee? Ay, Dios! what it is to be a woman and to suffer! Thou wilt die! Oh, Mother of God!" "I shall not die. Kiss me, Ysabel. Surely it is time now." But she drew back and shook her head. He exclaimed impatiently, but would not release her hand. "Thou meanest that, Ysabel?" "We shall be married soon--wait." "I had hoped you would grant me that. For when I tell you where I got those pearls you may drive me from you in spite of your promise--drive me from you with the curse of the devout woman on your lips. I might invent some excuse to persuade you to fly with me from California to-night, and you would never know. But I am a man--a Spaniard--and a De la Vega. I shall not lie to you." She looked at him with wide eyes, not understanding, and he went on, his face savage again, his voice harsh. He told her the whole story of that night in the mission. He omitted nothing--the menacing cross, the sacrilegious theft, the deliberate murder; the pictures were painted with blood and fire. She did not interrupt him with cry or gasp, but her expression changed many times. Horror held her eyes for a time, then slowly retreated, and his own fierce pride looked back at him. She lifted her head when he had finished, her throat throbbing, her nostrils twitching. "Thou hast done that--for me?" "Ay, Ysabel!" "Thou hast murdered thy immortal soul--for me?" "Ysabel!" "Thou lovest me like that! O God, in what likeness hast thou made me? In whatsoever image it may have been, I thank Thee--and repudiate Thee!" She took the cross from her throat and broke it in two pieces with her strong white fingers. "Thou art lost, eternally damned: but I will go down to hell with thee." And she threw herself upon him and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment he forgot the lesson thrust into his brain by the hideous fingers of the desert. He was almost happy. He put his hands about her warm face after a time. "We must go to-night," he said. "I went to General Castro's to change my clothes, and learned that a ship sails for the United States to-night. We will go on that. I dare not delay twenty-four hours. It may be that they are upon my heels now. How can we meet?"