The girl soon reappeared with a small table covered with a white cloth, and on which was dainty china ready for the serving. A pot of steaming coffee and a plate of freshly made sweet cake were added. A small vase of purple violets furnished adornment.
Gentle breezes stole into the room, carrying with them the nestling of the leaves in the patio and the perfume of the growing things.
"What a land of enchantment you have at your very side!" indicating the out-of-doors.
"Sometimes I fancy this to be a wishing-chair," indicating the one on which she was sitting. "Then the patio becomes unique. I often sit by the hour, and frame around it pictures of life as I would like to live it. That space outside is transformed into a jungle, the birds, my brothers and sisters, while the riotous colors embellish the leafy homes of the little people. Sweet woodsy odors refresh me, and I repose in the shady recesses, my heart singing the songs of Utopialand."
"Most pleasing fancies, indeed, my señora."
"They are my refuge. I lose myself in fancyland to crowd out other and unhappy memories." Her eyes grew troubled. Her face lost its curves of power.
"My dear Señora Valentino," began the soldier, his chivalry touched, "your husband is gone from you, but——"
Her gesture stopped him.
"I anticipate your words, Captain. It is not what I have lost that makes me sad. It is the absence of what forms the warp and woof of a woman's life, the things I have never had."
"What they can be I do not know, señora. I cannot imagine a life more filled than yours, except for the loss of——"