"Thank you, señor."
With a smile as gracious as the moonlight the señor said: "At another time I would ask my daughter, the Doña Carmelita, to join us for a little visit, but the child is young and the night already late. She would doubtless wish to sleep."
They were in the Administrator's private sitting room, the duplicate of a room in his father's castle in Spain. Priceless Persian rugs were on the floor, with high-back chairs of solid mahogany everywhere about. A massive secretary, likewise of mahogany, stood at one side. Tapestries designed in Seville hung on one of the walls; weapons of the hunt and of war, another; while oil paintings of battles, in many of which the family Mendoza had been distinguished, completed the adornment.
"Caramba! I ride miles to serenade the daughter; and here I am in the hacienda house, the guest of the father, while the señorita is somewhere in the courtyard, laughing, I'm sure—yes, laughing," thought the young soldier.
"Some wine, my Captain? Genuine Malaga it is, guaranteed by government stamp, not the juice of the old Mission grape, excellent as that is. Now, the cigarros. Let us speak, Señor Captain, of the General Guerrero. I understand he was once commander of that division in Spain from which you have so lately come. Am I correct?"
"You are, señor. The General was my commander so recently that one year will more than bridge the time."
"Guerrero was my captain when, as a subaltern, I sailed these western seas, and saw service in the Philippines—service that was service. Tell me of my one-time leader. Is he well?"
"He is well, and the years have small meaning to his strength."
Captain Morando talked with his host of the campaigns of General Guerrero in the Spanish trans-Mediterranean dependencies; of the newly concluded peace there; and of the retirement of the General by the age limit, but all the while his mind was fashioning love songs outside the window of the fair señorita. Through the haze of tobacco smoke the strong, kindly face of the Administrator of Mission San José de Guadalupe softened into the sweet face of the doña, with her laughing eyes and beautiful hair; his deep voice gave way to the lighter tones of the daughter.
"Peace in North Africa brought relief to the young soldier from discomforts of the campaign. Was it not so?"