Again her gesture left his sentence incomplete.
"Captain Morando, forgive me if I say such words mock me."
"Señora, the world is at your feet. The bravest and the proudest court your smiles. At that ball in Madrid I saw our commander lead you to the king, and together they bowed over your hand, while the multitude applauded. Can you not even now hear them? 'Viva! Viva! the fairest and gentlest in the kingdom! Viva! Señora Valentino!'"
"Not that, Captain; not that," deprecatingly. "Praise from the lips fills not the heart. Five years ago a prima donna thrilled all Europe. King and subject alike did her homage. In Paris the noble were honored by drawing her carriage to the opera house, having detached the horses. Yet last year she died alone and heartbroken."
"But for you, my dear lady!"
"It almost overcomes me, Captain, when I look back over my life. I rarely have courage to do so." She knit her brows.
"You know Señora Barcelo is my half sister only?" abruptly.
"No, I did not."
"My father was an elderly man when he married my mother. His daughter, now Señora Barcelo, was then nearly grown. My mother died when I was three years old, my father, a few months later. I can scarcely remember either. My half sister married and went away. I was placed in the convent of Maria del Pilar, in Madrid."
"Maria del Pilar!"