eans that no man in the Indies would
have a name written above that of the patient and devout Padre
Vicente."

"You say things, lad, with a serious face;--but with a mocking voice,"
commented Don Ruy. "Tell me truly if the life of a page in the palace
of the Viceroy teaches you so much of politics and holy orders that
you combine the two and grow skeptic to each?"

"A page sees more than he understands--" returned the lad, "it was the
teaching of your mad Dona of the silken scarf who saw things as the
priests told her they were not to be seen,--she it was who taught me
to laugh instead of doing penance."

"And she it was also no doubt who taught you of magic Mexic things in
keeping with the fairy Melissa of Charlemagne's day, and Merlin the
magian of Britain?"

"Heigh-ho! It is precious magic those old romancers did tell of!"
agreed the lad. "Think how fine it would be if we had those enchanted
steeds and lances,--and the fair daughter of the Khan of Kathay for
company through the wilderness!"

"She was too fickle, and too much the weeping fair," decided Don Ruy.
"Bradamante the warrior maid is more to the fancy--she would fight
for the lover she loved--or against him as the case might be, yet give
love to him all the time! She was the very pole-star of those old
romances--but they make no such maids except in books!"

"Not so much pity for that," commented the secretary. "Since she was
too easily won for the hearth stone of a plain man. It is clearly set
down that she spoke with her pagan lover but once, and fell
straightway so deep in love that she would fight either Christian or
Moor to find the way to him. A maid like that looks well afar off, but
it would take a valiant man to house with her!"

"How know you aught of how many times eyes must meet--or words be said
ere love comes?" demanded Don Ruy--"Bantam that you are!--Must a man
and a maid see summer and winter together ere the priest has work to
do?"

"Alas--and saints guard us!--we need not to live long to see denial of
that!" said the secretary and shrugged and smiled. "But since a maid
close to my own house throws lilies to strange cavaliers, it is not
for me to make discourse of ladies light-of-love!"

"Light-of-love!--Jack-a-napes! You know not so much after all if you
get that thought cross wise in your skull! My 'Dona Bradamante' (for
as yet neither you or the padre have given a name to her!) the 'Dona
Bradamante' spoke no word the most rigid