"Will the Señoritas please not talk," said the child. "I cannot hear. I sit and listen all day. If the Señoritas talk I cannot hear if any one comes."
"But must we lock the door?" asked Agueda.
"Is that what Andres wishes?" asked Aneta.
"If you please, Señorita; put the key on the window ledge."
"I shall not lock him in," said Aneta. "I cannot do it. I will stay a while, El Rey," she said.
Aneta sat down in the doorway, her head upon her hand. She belongs not to the detail of this story. She is only one of that majority of suffering ignorant beings with whom the world is filled, who make the dark background against which happier souls shine out. Agueda rode back to the ford. She galloped Castaño now. At the entrance of the forest she turned and threw a kiss to Aneta. The girl was still in the doorway, but El Rey was not to be seen. Agueda fancied him sitting on the low bed, his ear strained to catch the fall of a faraway footstep.
VI
The shadows were growing long when Agueda cantered down the path that ran alongside of the banana walk. She crossed the potrero at a slow pace, for Castaño was tired and warm. As she slowly rounded the corner of the veranda, a figure caught her eye. It was Don Beltran, cool and immaculate in his white linen suit. He was smoking, and seemed to be enjoying the sunset hour.