“I will send a man to come with you,” said Don Ramón. “It might not be quite safe.”
“Where is General Viedma?” asked Kate.
“We shall try to get him out when you come,” replied Doña Carlota. “I am so very fond of Don Cipriano, I have known him for many years, and he is the god-father of my younger son. But now he is in command of the Guadalajara division, he is not very often able to come out.”
“I wonder why he is a general?” said Kate. “He seems to me too human.”
“Oh, but he is very human too. But he is a general; yes, yes, he wants to be in command of the soldiers. And I tell you, he is very strong. He has great power with his regiments. They believe in him, oh, they believe in him. He has that power, you know, that some of the higher types of Indians have, to make many others want to follow them and fight for them. You know? Don Cipriano is like that. You can never change him. But I think a woman might be wonderful for him. He has lived so without any woman in his life. He won’t care about them.”
“What does he care about?” asked Kate.
“Ah!” Doña Carlota started as if stung. Then she glanced quickly, involuntarily at her husband, as she added: “I don’t know. Really, I don’t know.”
“The Men of Quetzalcoatl,” said Don Ramón heavily, with a little smile.
But Doña Carlota seemed to be able to take all the ease and the banter out of him. He seemed stiff and a bit stupid.
“Ah, there! There! There you have it! The Men of Quetzalcoatl—that is a nice thing for him to care about! A nice thing, I say,” fluttered Doña Carlota, in her gentle, fragile, scolding way. And it was evident to Kate that she adored both the men, and trembled in opposition to their wrongness, and would never give in to them.