her myself. However slight
their literary merit may be, they express what I feel better than any
casual words can. [He produces a packet of hotel bills scrawled with
manuscript, and kneels at the fire to decipher them, poking it with a
stick to make it glow].

TANNER. [clapping him rudely on the shoulder] Put them in the fire,
President.

MENDOZA. [startled] Eh?

TANNER. You are sacrificing your career to a monomania.

MENDOZA. I know it.

TANNER. No you don't. No man would commit such a crime against himself
if he really knew what he was doing. How can you look round at these
august hills, look up at this divine sky, taste this finely tempered
air, and then talk like a literary hack on a second floor in Bloomsbury?

MENDOZA. [shaking his head] The Sierra is no better than Bloomsbury when
once the novelty has worn off. Besides, these mountains make you dream
of women--of women with magnificent hair.

TANNER. Of Louisa, in short. They will not make me dream of women, my
friend: I am heartwhole.

MENDOZA. Do not boast until morning, sir. This is a strange country for
dreams.

TANNER. Well, we shall see. Goodnight. [He lies down and composes
himself to sleep].

Mendoza, with a sigh, follows his example; and for a few moments
there is peace in the Sierra. Then Mendoza sits up suddenly and says
pleadingly to Tanner--

MENDOZA. Just allow me to read a few lines before you go to sleep. I
should really like your opinion of them.

TANNER. [drowsily] Go on. I am listening.

MENDOZA. I saw thee first in Whitsun week Louisa, Louisa--

TANNER. [roaring himself] My dear President, Louisa is a very pretty
name; but it really doesn't rhyme well to Whitsun week.

MENDOZA. Of course not. Louisa is not the rhyme, but the refrain.

TANNER. [subsiding] Ah, the refrain. I beg your pardon. Go on.

MENDOZA. Perhaps you do not care for that one: I think you will like
this better. [He recites, in rich soft tones, and to slow time]

Louisa, I love thee.
I love thee, Louisa.
Louisa, Louisa, Louisa, I love thee.
One name and one phrase make my music,
Louisa. Louisa, Louisa, Louisa, I love thee.

Mendoza thy lover,
Thy lover, Mendoza,
Mendoza adoringly lives for Louisa.
There's nothing but that in the world for Mendoza.
Louisa, Louisa, Mendoza adores thee.

[Affected] There is no merit in producing beautiful lines upon such a
name. Louisa is an exquisite name, is it no