“Good old point!” exclaimed Don Audre Ruiz. “With it you marked many a scoundrel with your mark, notably and especially one Captain Ramón. Why do we endure his presence here in Reina de Los Angeles? Why not force the Governor to send him north?”
“Let us not mar a perfect evening with thoughts of him,” Don Diego begged. “Caballeros, I have brought this blade before you for a purpose. We have drunk toasts to everything of which we could think, and there still remains an abundance of rare wine that has not been guzzled. A toast to the sword of Zorro!”
“Ha! A happy thought!” Don Audre Ruiz cried. “Caballeros, a toast to the sword of Zorro!”
They drank it, put down their golden goblets, and sighed. They glanced at one another, each thinking of the days when Señor Zorro had ruled El Camino Real for a time. And then they dropped into their chairs once more, and Don Diego Vega sat down also, the sword on the table before him.
“It was a great game,” he said, and sighed himself. “But it is in the past. Now I shall be a man of peace and quiet.”
“That remains to be seen,” Don Audre declared. “There may be domestic warfare, you know. A man takes a terrible chance when he weds.”
“Nothing but peace and quiet,” Don Diego responded. “The sword of Zorro is but a relic. Years from now I may look upon it and smile. It has served its purpose.”
He yawned.
“By the saints!” Don Audre Ruiz breathed. “Did you see him? He yawned! While yet the word ‘Zorro’ was upon his lips, he yawned. And this is the man who defended persecuted priests and natives, defied the soldiery and made the Governor do a dance! ’Tis a cause he wants and needs, something to change him into Zorro again!”
“To-morrow I become a husband,” Don Diego answered him, yawning yet once more and fumbling with a handkerchief. “By the way, señores, have you ever seen this one?”