e
former, sitting in a corner with Dolores and listening to her
description of all the political notabilities present, and at the
latter I certainly did my duty as an Englishman, as many a black-eyed
donna could testify, albeit I had all the best waltzes with Dolores,
and of course took her in to supper.

I think every one in Valoro by this time put us down as an engaged
couple; especially as old Don Juan seemed a consenting party or
discreetly blind to our proceedings.

St. Nivel told me afterwards of a conversation he overheard between two
American attaches at Donna Elvira's.

"I guess," remarked the "Military" to the "Naval," "that Englishman's
goin' to walk off with old d'Alta's girl."

"You bet," confirmed the Naval, "he's fairly on the job. What is he?"

"Well, he's the cousin of that young Lord St. Nivel," responded the
Military, "and that counts a lot, of course. But his _real_ trade I'm
told is book writing."

"Jeehosophat!" commented the Naval. "I guess he'll chuck that when
he's Don Juan's son-in-law; the old snake-charmer will never tolerate a
mere _bookman_ in his drawing-room. His blue Spanish blood would all
turn green, I reckon."

Thus was the humble calling of a novelist despised, even in Valoro!

When, however, I descended from my bedroom at 7.45, after partaking of
a delicious _petit dejeuner_ of coffee, milk, bread, and fruit in my
apartment, I found Don Juan d'Alta ready for the road, and the motor at
the door. In five minutes St. Nivel joined us.

"I didn't like to be left behind, old sportsman," he exclaimed.
"Staying in bed on a huntin' mornin' is not exactly my form, even when
the quarry is merely a harmless Trappist!"

"Your early habits do you credit, but your language, St. Nivel," I said
reprovingly, "is verging on the profane."

"I'm sure I'm very sorry," he answered. "I'd walk ten miles rather
than offend any one's feelings. I hope Don Juan didn't hear me."

"Don Juan is a man of the world," I answered, "and it wouldn't matter
if he did, but other people might hear you and not like it."

"Righto, Bill," replied my sporting cousin. "I'll keep my eye on you
and try and not put my foot in it."

In a few minutes we were rattling through some magnificent mountain
scenery, with luxuriant vegetation and lovely wild flowers on every
side. On the tops of the trees were parrots of varied colours which,
disturbed by the noise of the motor, fluttered in all directions before