ire! I never heard such nonsense."

"His excellency told me much of this," replied Concha imperturbably.
"And I am sure that he cares nothing for princesses and will marry whom
he most admires. He would not say, but I know he cared nothing for
that poor little wife, dead so long ago. It was a mariage de
convenance, such as all the great world is accustomed to. He will love
me more than all the fine ladies he has ever seen. I feel it. I know
it! And I am quite happy."

"Do you love him?" asked Santiago, looking curiously at his sister's
flushed and glowing face. It seemed to him that she had never looked so
young. "Many have loved you. I had begun to think you had no heart
for men, no wish for anything but admiration. And now you give your
heart in a day to this Russian--who must be nearly forty--unasked."

"I have not thought of my heart at all. But I could love him, of
course. He is so handsome, so kind, so grand, so gay! But love is for
men and wives--has not my mother said so? Now I think only of St.
Petersburg! of Paris! of London! of the beautiful gowns and jewels I
shall wear at court--a red velvet train as long as a queen's, and all
embroidered with gold, a white veil spangled with gold, a head-dress a
foot high studded with jewels, ropes of diamonds and pearls--I made him
tell me how the great ladies dressed. Ah! there is the pleasure of
being a girl--to think and dream of all those beautiful things, not of
when the wife must live always for the husband and children. That
comes soon enough. And why should I not have all!--there is so little
in life for the girl. It seems to me now that I have had nothing.
When he asks me to marry him he will tell me of the fine things I shall
have and the great sights I shall witness--the ceremonies at court, the
winter streets--with snow--snow, Santiago!--where the great nobles
drive four horses through the drifts like little hills, and are wrapped
in furs like bears! The grand military parades--how I shall laugh when
I think of our poor little Presidios with their dozen officers
strutting about--" She stopped abruptly and bursting wildly into tears
flung herself into her brother's arms. "But I never could leave you!
And my father! my mother! all! all! Ay, Dios de mi alma! what an
ingrate I am! I should die of homesickness! My Santiago! My
Santiago!"

Santiago patted her philosophically. "You are not going to-morrow," he
reminded her. "Don't cross