Juanita still lingered at the window.
"And you always keep your promises, don't you? To the letter?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"No, of course not. It is characteristic of you, that is all. Your promise is a sort of rock that nothing can move. Women, you know, make a promise and then ask to be let off; you would not do that?"
"No," answered Marcos, quite simply.
In Navarre the hours of meals are much the same as those that rule in England to-day. At one o'clock luncheon both Marcos and Sarrion were at home. The valley seemed quiet enough. The soldiers of Juanita's dream seemed to have vanished like the shadows to which she compared them.
"I am sure," said Cousin Peligros, while they were still at the table, "that the sound of firing approaches. I have a very delicate hearing. All my senses are very highly developed. The sound of the firing is nearer, Marcos."
"Zeneta is retreating slowly before the enemy, with his small force," explained Marcos.
"But why is he doing that? He must surely know that there are ladies at Torre Garda."
"Ladies are not articles of war," said Juanita with a frivolous disregard of Cousin Peligros' reproving face. "And this is war."