Juana Valerie, descended from both Mexican and Spanish ancestors, was, with the exception of an old aunt, the last of the family, which, in its day, had been one of much note. Left an orphan at an early age, her only remaining relative—feeble in both mind and body—found it no easy task to bring the fiery, frisky little mortal under any great degree of control. As she grew older her positive nature and keen mind outgeneraled both teachers and aunt. When she chose to spend the livelong day frolicking in the grounds, or clambering trees, instead of poring over dull books, she did so, always being able by means of ready wit and winning ways to escape punishment. However, as the years went on, she contrived to secure a fair share of education, absorbing it, it must be; surely it was not accomplished by hard study.
Juana's parents had been staunch Roman Catholics, and while they lived she was trained in the strict observance of the rules of that church. Whether it was that the little maiden was a born rebel, or that from some honest-hearted ancestor she had inherited a hatred of shams, it turned out that at a very early age she began to throw off the shackles the Church of Rome binds about its victims. The Confessional had always been to her childish mind a dread and horror, and as she grew to girlhood she stoutly refused to go to it. The aunt and the old priest scolded and threatened, which had the effect only to drive her from the church entirely. Then they persecuted and warned, holding up to her view the awful fate of an apostate soul. They tried to hedge her in on this side and that, but she shook her willful little head, and leaping over all inclosures, ran free as the wind. No threats or persuasions availing to bring her under control, she was deemed incorrigible, and the anathema of the Church pronounced against her. This did not bring the least shadow upon her spirit, however; a strange intuition seemed to make this young girl aware that truth in its purity was not there, and that a mere man had no power to pronounce either blessing or curse upon her.
She was not unloving to her old aunt, nor did she intend to be undutiful, but she did purpose always and everywhere to have her own way; so the feeble old lady settled down to the inevitable, and Juana came and went free as a bird. Hitherto, her flowers and her pets had absorbed her, but now she was awakening to the fact that a whole bright world of pleasure lay all about, beckoning her to its revelries. So she drifted in with the giddy throng, and was flattered and followed and smiled upon to her heart's content.
In one of the gay assemblies she met Paul Everett, a young American. At first glance each became immediately fascinated by the other, and subsequent interviews served to deepen the enchantment. As Juana could speak not a word of English, and the young stranger but very little Spanish, it would seem that the attachment could not make rapid progress; but love has a mystic language of its own, and is independent of clumsy words. The reasons for this irresistible and mutual attraction were quite as good as many lovers can plead. He was carried captive by flashing dark eyes, raven hair, and the graceful form gleaming in crimson and gold, flitting through the dance like some gay tropical bird. She, in turn, fondly believed that the tall blonde young man, with locks and mustache of golden hue, with eyes of heavenly blue, and, above all, in faultless attire, was nothing short of a demi-god. On such slender basis they built fair hopes, and were ready to promise everything, and more, that lay in mortal's power to bestow. The business that drew Paul Everett to Mexico was the same in which he had been engaged the last five years. His indulgent friends termed it "sowing wild oats," though he himself professed to be gathering material for some literary work. In this line he had much taste, and fair talents, and might have succeeded if only it had been possible for him to engage in any pursuit with earnestness and enthusiasm; or if he had known any other rule of life than self-indulgence.
The wooing was short; they were soon married, and Paul for a time exceedingly enjoyed the little idyll he was living. The situation was most novel and delightful. The flowery land, its blue skies and balmy air suited his poetical temperament. The old castle and grounds were picturesque and spacious, and he was master of them, or would be on the death of the old aunt; besides, did he not possess the entire adoration of the most charming and unique little creature that ever breathed? Paul had a mania for the unique, and one of Juana's greatest attractions to him was that she was unlike all the rest of womankind; of whom, as he assured himself, he was heartily weary, but this sparkling, piquant winning sprite—ah! She was as far beyond and above all other women as wine was above water— and that distance was immeasurable to Paul's taste.
He enjoyed teaching Juana to speak English. Her musical voice stammering out pretty broken words in his own language, was a pleasant thing to hear. She was not content with simply speaking it. Should she be the wife of an American and not be able to read his language? So under his tuition, she set about the study of it with much more industry than suited her husband's indolent temperament. These were halcyon days; seldom were a young couple more united. Their views of life and their aims were the same. The world was a gay garden, and they two were butterflies, disporting themselves in the warm sunshine and draining every drop of sweetness from every flower in their path. Innocent enough flowers they were at first; the delight in each other's society in rambling, riding, boating, and resting under the shadows of broad spreading trees, or, from a lofty balcony enjoying the panorama the summer evening spread before them; the fair city at their feet, its spires and minarets gleaming in the moonlight, and distant mountains piled in soft masses against the crystal sky.
When Juana added to the witchery of the scene by singing sweet Spanish airs to the music of the guitar, the young husband half believed he had attained heaven and the society of the angels.
When these simple delights ceased to charm, there was the outside world which they had come near to forgetting while in this ecstatic trance. So they plunged into every amusement the gay wicked city offered, and "gave their hearts to folly." They lived in a whirl of pleasure, and Juana felt that now there was nothing more to ask for in life. To be the chosen bride of such a man, and to take her fill of amusement, to dress and dance and sing the days and nights away—was ever cup of happiness so strangely full as hers?
If some stray breeze had whispered in her ear that she had tied her happiness to a slender thread, that the day would come when all these things would be to her as chaff, and that if her husband should weary of her, he would fling her aside as he did the rose he plucked in the morning, after breathing its sweetness a moment—then Juana would never have believed such a false whisperer.
Paul Everett tired of everything sooner or later. His restless, fickle nature demanded constant change and new sensations. So, after the first novelty of his new mode of life had worn off, he began to return to his old habits of roving, making only short absences at first, but gradually to extend them till weeks grew into months.