“Ah, my good Don Raoul!” she interrupted. “What questions! And from you! Of course, if I was of service to you just now, I am glad.”
“It is good to hear you say that, Senorita,” he replied with evident relief. “I was afraid things might be different between us. You see, you disappeared so completely. You have not been in Bogota for months, for years, Senorita. And then, to-day—at last—I heard of your arrival. I wanted to see you. I have not forgotten you in all this long time, you may be sure, Sajipona!”
A faint flush overspread the girl’s delicate features; a strange look kindled within her dark eyes.
“It is well, Don Raoul,” she said in a low voice.
“And here you are, still the Queen—beautiful, mysterious!” he exclaimed.
“You know I am not a queen,” she murmured.
“Why, even now they called you so. Those jackals felt your power—just as I do, beautiful Sajipona!”
“Enough, Senor! Titles and flatteries I neither care for nor deserve are a mockery in my own house.”
“The title is yours by tradition, if not by right. As for flatteries——”
“We do not live by traditions,” she interrupted.