s of virgins and children who were chanting in English
with bird-like notes the glory of the Lord.

Aguirre was at a loss for words. All his angry thoughts were forgotten.
He felt like crying, like kneeling and begging something of that God,
whoever He might be, who was at the other side of the walls, lulled by
the hymn from the throat of the mystic birds with firm and virginal
voices:

"Luna!... Luna!"

He could say nothing else, but the Jewess, stronger than he and less
sensitive to that music which was not hers, spoke to him in a low and
hurried voice. She had stolen out just to see him; she must talk with
him, say good-bye. It was the last time they would meet.

Aguirre heard her without fully understanding her words. All his
attention was concentrated upon her eyes, as if the five days in which
they had not met were the same as a long voyage, and as if he were
seeking in Luna's countenance some effect of the extended lapse of time
that had intervened. Was she the same?... Yes it was she. But her lips
were somewhat pale with emotion; she pressed her lids tightly together
as if every word cost her a prodigious effort, as if every one of them
tore out part of her soul. Her lashes, as they met, revealed in the
corner of her eyes lines that seemed to indicate fatigue, recent tears,
sudden age.

The Spaniard was at last able to understand what she was saying. But was
it all true?... To part! Why? Why?... And as he stretched his arms out
to her in the vehemence of his entreaty Luna became paler still,
huddling together timidly, her eyes dilated with fear.

It was impossible for their love to continue. She must look upon all the
past as a beautiful dream; perhaps the best of her life... but the
moment of waking had come. She was marrying, thus fulfilling her duty
toward her family and her race. The past had been a wild escapade, a
childish flight of her exalted and romantic nature. The wise men of her
people had clearly pointed out to her the dangerous consequences of such
frivolity. She must follow her destiny and be as her mother had
been,--like all the women of her blood. Upon the following day she was
going to Tangier with her promised husband, Isaac Nunez. He himself and
her relatives had counselled her to have one last interview with the
Spaniard, so as to put an end to an equivocal situation that might
compromise the honor of a good merchant and destroy the tranquility of a
peaceful man. They would marry at T