"Ah! he expects some one—he has friends in San Juan he said—it is a rendezvous for business. How little does he dream that eyes filled with tender love are on him. I do not think I can much longer refrain from letting him know—our old signal, ah! how he would hasten thither did I but dare to give it. The temptation is irresistible. Carramba! I love him so, why should I resist since he is mine. How he will turn and look around, and when I make one beckoning movement, ah, me, with the speed of love he will fly to me. All else is forgotten—my hungry heart clamors for the sound of his voice, which is life and light to me. Yes, I will cast prudence to the winds—the spell of his presence is over me—to feel the warm clasp of his hand, to hear his voice that has haunted my dreams tell me again how he loves only me—ah, that will be Heaven on earth. And to think I can enter Paradise just by one little bird whistle—ah! what delightful suspense while I linger and anticipate; but it is cruelty to him I love. So then, the signal that has often in the past called him to my side."
It chanced, however, that whatever this signal may have been she did not make it just then.
On the contrary, bending forward she watched the man on the plaza with new interest, a different feeling having crept like an icy hand into her heart.
There was reason.
Roderic's slow saunter had become a quick walk, and in his whole attitude could be seen an eagerness that animated his frame—in a word he had become electrified.
No signal had been given, but his eyes had fallen upon a veiled female figure that came along the plaza.
They would meet in front of Senor Pedro's establishment, just as scores of couples had met time without mind.
This fact appeared to stamp itself upon the mind of the looker on—it was apparently one of the first things she thought of.
"The same place that was so sacred to me, and he goes to greet another there. Am I awake or is this some terrible dream. See, they meet, he holds out his hand—how eagerly he takes hers and raises it to his lips. And she—I cannot see her face, but what is this—so like in figure in her walk—surely my soul remains here on the balcony while my human form has gone to meet its king. And yet—and yet, how can it be so? Would to Heaven she might but remove her veil if but for one moment that I might see whether I dream or really see him with another. Could she have heard my wish—she raises her hand, she brushes aside the veil as though he but had to ask the favor. Be still, treacherous, sorely wounded heart. What beauty, what ravishing charms be in that face. And how I could hate it if, perdition take the thought, it has come between us!"
All desire to give the signal had now fled.