my friend. Thou and he must hate each other, and for once I am without
a rival. He shall be my slave." And she tossed her spirited head.

"He shall not!" cried Chonita, then checked herself abruptly, the
blood rushing to her hair. "I hate him so," she continued hurriedly
to the astonished Valencia, "that I would see no woman show him favor.
Thou wilt not like him, Valencia. He is not handsome at all,--no color
in his skin, not even white, and eyes in the back of his head. No
mustache, no curls, and a mouth that looks,--oh, that mouth, so grim,
so hard!--no, it is not to be described. No one could; it makes you
hate him. And he has no respect for women; he thinks they were made to
please the eye, no more. I do not think he would look ten seconds at
an ugly woman. Thou wilt not like him, Valencia, sure."

"Ay, but I think I shall. What thou hast said makes me wish to see him
the more. God of my life! but he must be different from the men of the
South. And I shall like that."

"Perhaps," said Chonita, coldly. "At least he will not break thy
heart, for no woman could love him. But come and take thy siesta,
no? and refresh thyself for the dance. I will send thee a cup
of chocolate." And, bending her head to Adan, she swept down the
corridor, followed by Valencia.




XV.