dismiss
her, a sentence for which the trembling girl prepared herself.

"Make more--quickly!" cried the lady of caprice. "They come. I hear
them. But this is enough for the first. Make the rest and beat with
the molinillo as I have done, and Malia will bring all to the corridor."

She ran to her room and her mirror. Both were small, the room little
more luxurious than the cell of a nun. But the roses hung over the
window, the birds had built in the eaves, and over the wall the sun
shone in. In one corner was an altar and a crucifix. If the walls
were rough and white, they were spotless as the hands that shook out
and then twisted high the fine dusky masses of hair. When a fold had
been drawn over either ear, in the modest fashion of the California
maid and wife, and the tall shell comb had fastened the rest, Concha
instead of finishing the headdress with her long Spanish pins, divested
the stems of two half-blown roses of their thorns and thrust them
obliquely through the knot. Her dress was of simple white linen made
with a very full skirt and little round jacket, but embroidered by her
own deft fingers with the color she loved best. She patted her frock,
rolled down her sleeves, and went out to the "corridor" to stand
demurely behind her mother as the Russians, escorted by Father Ramon
Abella, rode into the square.

Rezanov had intended merely to pay a call of ceremony upon the
hospitable Arguellos, but after he had dismounted and kissed the hands
of the smiling senora and her beautiful daughter he was nothing loath
to linger over a cup of chocolate.

It was served out there in the shade of the vines. Rezanov and Concha
sat on the railing, and the man stared over his cup at the girl with
the roses touching her cheeks and ruffling her hair.

"Do you like chocolate, senor?" asked Concha, who was not in the
intellectual mood of yesterday. "I made it myself--I and my poor Rosa."

"It is the most delectable foam I have ever tasted. I am interested to
know that it has the solid foundation of a name. What is the matter
with your Rosa?"

"She is an unfortunate. Her lover killed his wife, and it is said that
she is not innocent herself. The lover serves in chains for eight
years, and she is with us that we may make her repent and keep her from
further sin. She is unhappy and will marry the man when his punishment
is over. I am very sorry for her."

"Fancy you living close to a woman like that! I find it