"Of course," he said, "the Mexican Minister at
Berlin would know all about the Arguello family: so there would be
no question there."
Paul was not sorry when the time came to take leave of his friend;
but once again in the clear moonlight and fresh, balmy air of the
Allee, he forgot the unpleasantness of the interview. He found
himself thinking only of his ride with Yerba. Well! he had told
her that he loved her. She knew it now, and although she had
forbidden him to speak further, she had not wholly rejected it. It
must be her morbid consciousness of the mystery of her birth that
withheld a return of her affections,--some half-knowledge, perhaps,
that she would not divulge, yet that kept her unduly sensitive of
accepting his love. He was satisfied there was no entanglement;
her heart was virgin. He even dared to hope that she had ALWAYS
cared for him. It was for HIM to remove all obstacles--to prevail
upon her to leave this place and return to America with him as her
husband, the guardian of her good name, and the custodian of her
secret. At times the strains of a dreamy German waltz, played in
the distance, brought back to him the brief moment that his arm had
encircled her waist by the crumbling wall, and his pulses grew
languid, only to leap firmer the next moment with more desperate
resolve.
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