"Why, of course not. I have a great deal for which to thank you."

General Longorio fingered his winegla.s.s and stared into it. "I am not like other men. Would to G.o.d I were, for then I could close my eyes and--forget. You have your great tragedy--it is old to you; but mine, dear lady, is just beginning. I can look forward to nothing except unhappiness." He sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry you are unhappy," Alaire parried. "Surely you have every pleasant prospect."

"It would seem so. I am young, rich, a hero, I serve my country in glorious fashion, but what is all that if there is no pretty one to care? Even the meanest peon has his woman, his heart's treasure. I would give all I have, I would forego my hope of heaven and doom myself to eternal tortures, for one smile from a pair of sweet lips, one look of love. I am a man of iron--yes, an invincible soldier--and yet I have a heart, and a woman could rule me."

"You say you have a heart." Alaire studied her vis-avis curiously as he met her eyes with his mournful gaze. "How is it that I hear such strange stories about you, general?"

"What stories?"

"Stories--too terrible to mention. I wonder if they can be true."

"Lies, all of them!" Longorio a.s.serted.

"For instance, they tell me that you shoot your prisoners?"

"Of course!" Then, at her shocked exclamation, he explained: "It is a necessity of war. Listen, senora! We have twelve million Indians in Mexico and a few selfish men who incite them to revolt. Everywhere there is intrigue, and nowhere is there honor. To war against the government is treason, and treason is punishable by death. To permit the lower cla.s.ses to rise would result in chaos, black anarchy, indescribable outrages against life and property. There is but one way to pacify such people--exterminate them! Mexico is a civilized nation; there is no greater in the world; but she must be ruled with an iron hand. Soldiers make rulers. I am still a young man, and--at present there is but one other capable of this gigantic task. For the time being, therefore, I permit myself to serve under him, and--I salute him. Viva Potosi!" The speaker lifted his gla.s.s and drank. "Madero was a wicked believer in spells and charms; he talked with the dead. He, and those who came after him, fired the peons to revolt and despoiled our country, leaving her p.r.o.ne and bleeding. We of the Cientificos have set ourselves to stop her wounds and to nourish her to life again. We shall drive all traitors into the sea and feed them to the sharks. We shall destroy them all, and Mexico shall have peace. But I am not a bloodthirsty man. No, I am a poet and a lover at heart. As great a patriot as I am, I could be faithless to my country for one smile from the woman I adore."

Alaire did not color under the ardent glance that went with this declaration. She deliberately changed the subject.

"This morning while we were in the office of the jeje de armas," she said, "I saw a poor woman with a baby--she was scarcely more than a child herself--whose husband is in prison. She told me how she had come all the way from the country and is living with friends, just to be near him. Every day she goes to the carcel, but is denied admission, and every day she comes to plead with the jefe de armas for her husband's life. But he will not see her, and the soldiers only laugh at her tears."

"A common story! These women and their babies are very annoying,"

observed the general.

"She says that her husband is to be shot."

"Very likely! Our prisons are full. Doubtless he is a bad man."

"Can't you do something?"

"Eh?" Longorio lifted his brows in the frankest inquiry.

"That poor girl with her little, bare, brown-eyed baby was pitiful."

Alaire leaned forward with an earnest appeal in her face, and her host smiled.

"So? That is how it is, eh? What is her name?"

"Inez Garcia. The husband's name is Juan."

"Of course. These peladors are all Juans. You would like to appear as an angel of mercy, eh? Your heart is touched?"

"Deeply."

"Bastante! There is no more to be said." Longorio rose and went into the next room where were certain members of his staff. After a time he returned with a paper in his hand, and this he laid before Alaire. It was an order for the release of Juan Garcia. "The salvo conducto which will permit Juan and his Inez and their Juanito to return to their farm is being made out," he explained. "Are you satisfied?"

Alaire looked up wonderingly, "I am deeply grateful. You overwhelm me.

You are--a strange man."

"Dear lady, I live to serve you. Your wish is my law. How can I prove it further?" As he stood beside her chair the fervor of his gaze caused her eyes to droop and a faint color to come into her cheeks. She felt a sudden sense of insecurity, for the man was trembling; the evident desire to touch her, to seize her in his arms, was actually shaking him like an ague. What next would he do? Of what wild extravagance was he not capable? He was a queer mixture of fire and ice, of sensuality and self-restraint. She knew him to be utterly lawless in most things, and yet toward her he had shown scrupulous restraint. What possibilities were in a man of his electric temperament, who had the strength to throttle his fiercest longings?

The strained, throbbing silence that followed Longorio's last words did more to frighten the woman than had his most ardent advances.

After a time he lifted Alaire's hand; she felt his lips hot and damp upon her flesh; then he turned and went away with the doc.u.ment.

When he reappeared he was smiling. "These Garcias shall know who interceded for them. You shall have their thanks," said he.

"No, no! It is enough that the man is free."

"How now?" The general was puzzled. "What satisfaction can there be in a good deed unless one receives public credit and thanks for it? I am not like that."

He would have lingered indefinitely over the table, but Alaire soon rose to go, explaining:

"I must finish my disagreeable task now, so that I can go home to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" her host cried in dismay. "No, no! You must wait--"

"My husband is expecting me."

This statement was a blow; it seemed to crush Longorio, who could only look his keen distress.

As they stepped out into the street Alaire was afforded that treat which Longorio had so thoughtfully arranged for her. There in the gutter stood Inez Garcia with her baby in her arms, and beside her the ragged figure of a young man, evidently her Juan. The fellow was emaciated, his face was gaunt and worn and frightened, his feet were bare even of sandals, the huge peaked straw hat which he clutched over his breast was tattered, and yet in his eye there was a light.

They had waited patiently, these Garcias, heedful of Longorio's orders, and now they burst into a torrent of thanks. They flung themselves to their knees and kissed the edge of Alaire's dress. Their instructions had been plain, and they followed them to the letter, yet their grat.i.tude was none the less genuine for being studied. The little mother's hysteria, for instance, could not have been entirely a.s.sumed, and certainly no amount of rehearsals could have taught the child to join his cries so effectively to his parents'. Between them all they made such a racket as to summon a crowd, and Dolores, who had also awaited her mistress, was so deeply stirred that she wept with them.

General Longorio enjoyed this scene tremendously, and his beaming eyes expressed the hope that Alaire was fully satisfied with the moment. But the Garcias, having been thoroughly coached, insisted upon rendering full measure of thanks, and there seemed to be no way of shutting them off until the general ordered them to their feet.

"That is enough!" he declared. "Hombre, you are free, so go about your business and fight no more with those accursed rebels."

Juan, of course, was ready at this moment to fight for any one he was told to fight for, particularly Longorio himself, and he so declared.

His life was at the service of the benefactor who had spared him; his wife and baby lived only to bless the ill.u.s.trious general.

"They look very poor," said Alaire, and opened her purse; but Longorio would not permit her to give. Extracting a large roll of paper money from his own pocket, he tossed it, without counting, to Juan, and then when the onlookers applauded he loudly called to one of his officers, saying:

"Oiga! Give these good friends of mine two horses, and see that they are well cared for. Now, Juan," he addressed the dazed countryman, "I have one order for you. Every night of your life you and your pretty wife must say a prayer for the safety and happiness of this beautiful lady who has induced me to spare you. Do you promise?"

"We promise!" eagerly cried the pair.

"Good! See that you keep your word. On the day that you forget for the first time Luis Longorio will come to see you. And then what?" He scowled at them fiercely.

"We will not forget," the Garcias chorused.

There was a murmur from the onlookers; some one cried: "VIVA LONGORIO!"

The general bowed smilingly; then, taking Alaire's arm, he waved the idlers out of his path with a magnificent gesture.

When, later in the day, Mrs. Austin came to say good-by and thank the Mexican for his courtesies, he humbly begged permission to pay his respects that evening at her hotel, and she could not refuse.