"I don't ask anybody to believe the story," she said, resentfully.
"All the same, it is true. There are pieces of Spanish gold and
silver coins, in boxes bound with iron and fitted with hasps and
staples; packages of gems; pearls from the Caribbean as large as
plums. Oh? Sebastian told me all about it."

"Of course, of course! I shall not argue the matter."' Don Mario
dismissed the subject with a wave of his plump hand. "Now, Dona
Isabel--"

"As if it were not enough to lose that treasure," the widow
continued, stormily, "the Government must free all our slaves.
Tse! Tse! And now that there is no longer a profit in sugar, my
plantations--"

"No profit in sugar? What are you saying?" queried the caller.

"Oh, you have a way of prospering! What touches your fingers turns
to gold. But you are not at the mercy of an administrador."

"Precisely! I am my own manager. If your crops do not pay, then
Pancho Cueto is cheating you. He is capable of it. Get rid of him.
But I didn't come here to talk about Esteban's hidden treasure,
nor his plantations, nor Pancho Cueto. I came here to talk about
your step-daughter, Rosa."

"So?" Dona Isabel looked up quickly.

"She interests me. She is more beautiful than the stars." Don
Mario rolled his eyes toward the high ceiling, which, like the