"They may do what they please with me. It is not for me to say. I have done my duty; I will not become a traitor."
The officer was silent for a moment, sadly staring ahead in the darkness.
"You Americans forget how we Spaniards feel," he began slowly. "You think us foolish to fight for a dying country. I know that it is dying; for I am not one of those who blind their eyes and boast. I know that we are bankrupt and disorganized, our men dying, and our enemies closing in on us. We cannot keep up with modern nations. But, Miss Stuart, it is still Spain, my native land; my friends are there, my memories are there. And Spain's enemies are mine."
There was a gleam in the proud Castilian's eyes as he said that; but then he sank back with a sigh.
"It is useless," he said, "foolish, if you will. And I am tired of the struggle, tired of weeping at my country's trials, her follies. I shall be glad to leave. I can die without a murmur. When I go back to Havana I shall have no one to care about me, and it will soon be over."
The man stopped abruptly.
"I am through," he said.
"You say you have no one to care for you," said the girl. "I will care for you."
But the officer only shook his head.
"I should ruin your hopes," he said. "You must not think of me at all. If I came I should have no way of taking care of you; I will stay in Cuba. And remember that I have done this to make you happy—because I love you. If I leave you unhappy I shall know that I have died for nothing."