," I suggested maliciously. "I suspected as
much. Come along. That will do."

"My ancestor's name," continued Enriquez, gravely, "was Antonio
Hermenegildo de Salvatierra, which is not the same. Thees Don Quixote of
whom you speak exist not at all."

"Never mind. Only, for heaven's sake, as we are nearing the house, don't
make a fool of yourself again."

It was a wonderful moonlight night. The deep redwood porch of the
Mannersley parsonage, under the shadow of a great oak--the largest in
the Encinal--was diapered in black and silver. As the women stepped
upon the porch their shadows were silhouetted against the door. Miss
Mannersley paused for an instant, and turned to give a last look at the
beauty of the night as Jocasta entered. Her glance fell upon us as
we passed. She nodded carelessly and unaffectedly to me, but as she
recognized Enriquez she looked a little longer at him with her previous
cold and invincible curiosity. To my horror Enriquez began instantly to
affect a slight tremulousness of gait and a difficulty of breathing; but
I gripped his arm savagely, and managed to get him past the house as the
door closed finally on the young lady.

"You do not comprehend, friend Pancho," he said gravely, "but those eyes
in their glass are as the ESPEJO USTORIO, the burning mirror. They burn,
they consume me here like paper. Let us affix to ourselves thees tree.
She will, without doubt, appear at her window. We shall salute her for
good night."

"We will do nothing of the kind," I said sharply. Finding that I was
determined, he permitted me to lead him away. I was delighted to
notice, however, that he had indicated the window which I knew was
the minister's study, and that as the bedrooms were in the rear of the
house, this later incident was probably not overseen by the young lady
or the servant. But I did not part from Enriquez until I saw him
safely back to the sala, where I left him sipping chocolate, his
arm alternating around the waists of his two previous partners in a
delightful Arcadian and childlike simplicity, and an apparent utter
forgetfulness of Miss Mannersley.

The fandangos were usually held on Saturday night, and the next day,
being Sunday, I missed Enriquez; but as he was a devout Catholic I
remembered that he was at mass in the morning, and possibly at the
bullfight at San Antonio in the afternoon. But I was somewhat surprised
on the Monday morning following, as I was crossing the plaza, to have