"Ask the Señor Capitan about heart-breaking," laughed the ungovernable Lolita. "Perhaps he has practiced that too in Spain."
"Señorita Doña Hernandez!" warningly from her dueña.
"Well, I am as curious to know about that as was Don Abelardo about egg-breaking."
"Practice makes perfect, is that your meaning?" smiled Señora Valentino at her.
"Yes—no. I simply asked for information."
"Is the Señorita Hernandez still heart-whole?" inquired the soldier. "If she is not, it is not the fault of my sex, I know."
"Do you speak from the fullness of experience, Señor Capitan?" asked Señorita Mendoza. Those in hearing laughed gayly at the quip, as did Morando. Nevertheless, an arctic breath seemed to touch him.
The elders gave themselves to other subjects—the grain and the vineyard prospects for the year, the return of their herds from the San Joaquin, and the like.
Colonel Barcelo's voice was heard talking over his contest at cribbage with Moraga.
The serving peons finished their work and were standing idly by the door. The guests had eaten their fill. The room rang with merriment. Many of the señoritas had woven flowers from the tables into wreaths and were wearing them on the head or around the neck. Lolita Hernandez wished to crown her partner with roses, but the youth, with mock humility, demurred.