"Señor," I said, "these pictures are beautiful,—they show the skill of master artists. But my whole being thrills with the matchless beauty and grace of a living work of art,—the masterpiece of the Master of masters, of God Himself!"
"Juan!" he cried, "forgive me! I know now how you love her. Yet it is impossible. If I dared give way to my personal regard for you, you should have her. Believe me, I speak only the truth. But my country—for the sake of its freedom, its welfare, I am resolved to give all—even her!"
"Even her!" I answered. "Then give her to me! I will fight for your country,—I will pledge my life in the cause of freedom! What more can you ask? Your country shall be my country; your cause my cause!"
"No, Juan, it cannot be!" he replied, and his sigh proved that his regret was real. "You would add strength to our cause, but not what may be gained elsewhere. There are men in New Spain who, if they joined the revolution, could singly bring over whole provinces."
"You would give her to another!—as a bribe to win the support of another!—when you know she loves me?"
"God bear me witness, it is not for myself but for my country. What a small price to pay—the disappointment of two lovers—in turn for the freedom and happiness of millions!"
"It is not your heart you would break," I retorted.
"Do you then believe I can look upon her grief and yours without sorrow?"
"Let another pay the price!"
"There is none other as precious—none other that can win him over. All turns upon her beauty and charm. He whose aid I am resolved to gain by the bestowal of her hand can be won only by the most lovely woman in New Spain. And he is one whose leadership would at once bring us the support of all the land, from across the borders of the Viceroyalty to Santa Fe."