"Oh! I don't pretend to agree with his views, but as regards us, he's about right. I was never able to see ourselves as some others see us until we came here. And I have come to the conclusion that our views of life are about as distorted as the cracked reflection of myself in the mirror yonder. We have unconsciously lived a life antagonistic to nature and consequently find ourselves ridiculous in our simplest endeavors to be natural. Of course," she added, "they would appear the same if things were reversed and we had them on our ground.
"With us," she went on, "marriage is more a game of intrigue than love; here it is purely one of sentiment. Aside from my intrinsic value, what weapon have I to employ against this Indian woman? The things which count for so much with us, fall flat here.
"Why, I'm not even in a position to make Jack jealous! If I were at home, I would have a dozen men at my feet and as many more as I wished to play off against him, not to mention the thousand opportunities for neglect. In fact, all the weapons which we women are so fond of employing against men. Whereas, here I am at the feet of my Lord Jack—his indifference is insufferable! Oh! I'll pay him back for this!" she cried, pale with anger.
"Men are brutes—all of them!" remarked Bessie laconically, rising to a sitting posture on the sofa.
"I hate him—hate him!" continued Blanch in a fresh paroxysm of passion. "To think that he of all men should have been the one chosen to show me myself—the only one of us who was strong enough to break away! Why was I not able to hold him? Why am I not able to come to him now? There is something wrong somewhere. We seem to have lost our grip on things. I can't understand it!" Just then the old, gilt French clock on the white marble mantelpiece slowly chimed the hour of five. The sound of the clock caused Blanch to pause. "Five o'clock," she said, calming herself. "Don Felipe will be waiting for us in the garden."
"That's so," answered Bessie, rising from the sofa and crossing the room to the window which looked out over the patio into the garden. "There he is now, pacing back and forth beneath the trees. What a restless man he is!"
"After the first cup, you might disappear, Bess," said Blanch. "I want to try to find out if he still cares for that Indian?"
"That was the most romantic thing I ever heard!" exclaimed Bessie.
"I wonder he ever returned," answered Blanch, opening the door and leading the way across the patio in the direction of the garden. The tinkle of a guitar attracted their attention to a group of peons and women squatted on their heels on one side of the court, in the shade of the arcades, smoking and chatting. A little beyond them, in the shadow of the doorway, stood the major-domo, Juan Ramon and the pretty housekeeper, Rosita.
"Dios! but she is magnifico—the tall one!" whispered Juan to Rosita as the girls passed them, nodding and smiling in response to Juan's deep salutation and Rosita's courtesy.