But no one noticed all this. Rosita's mother was indulging in a siesta; and Cibolo, if he saw anything amiss, said nothing about it to any one, but wagged his tail, and looked good-humouredly at Don Juan, as if he entirely approved of the latter's conduct. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. When Vizcarra reached his sumptuous quarters, the first thing he did was to call for wine. It was brought, and he drank freely and with fierce determination. He thought by that to drown his chagrin; and for a while he succeeded. There is relief in wine, but it is only temporary: you may make jealousy drunk and oblivious, but you cannot keep it so. It will be sober as soon--ay, sooner than yourself. Not all the wine that was ever pressed from grapes can drown it into a complete oblivion. Vizcarra's heart was filled by various passions. There was love--that is, such love as a libertine feels; jealousy; anger at the coarse handling he had experienced; wounded self-love, for with his gold-lace and fine plumes he believed himself a conqueror at first sight; and upon the top of all, bitter disappointment. This last was the greater that he did not see how his suit could be renewed. To attempt a similar visit would lead to similar chagrin,-- perhaps worse. It was plain the girl did not care for him, with all his fine feathers and exalted position. He saw that she was very different from the others with whom he had had dealings--different from the dark-eyed doncellas of the valley, most of whom, if not all, would have taken his onza without a word or a blush! It was plain to him he could go no more to the rancho. Where, then, was he to meet her--to see her? He had ascertained that she seldom came to the town--never to the amusements, except when her brother was at home. How and where, then, was he to see her? His was a hopeless case--no opportunity of mending his first _faux pas_--none, any more than if the object of his pursuit was shut up in the cloisters of a nunnery! Hopeless, indeed! Thus ran his reflections. Though uttering this phrase, he had no belief in its reality. He had no intention of ending the affair so easily. He--the lady-killer, Vizcarra--to fail in the conquest of a poor ranchera! He had never failed, and would not now. His vanity alone would have urged him farther in the affair; but he had a sufficient incentive to his strong passion,--for strong it had now grown. The opposition it had met--the very difficulty of the situation--only stimulated him to greater energy and earnestness. Besides, jealousy was there, and that was another spur to his excited pride.