d have expected
to find in a travelled man of the world rather that in a cloistered
monk. He held us during all that meal, giving zest to each dish that
came, with anecdotes of every country, and yet he spoke with a refined
simplicity and perfect innocence of thought. His clear-cut and healthy
face, his bright blue eyes and white teeth, the exceeding sweetness of
his face and expression are with me now as I write.

When it was over and we had parted from him and were flying back to
Valoro and modernism, I turned to Don Juan and spoke my thoughts.

"And where," I asked, "can the Order of Trappists have gained such a
wonderful recruit from?"

The old man's face, which had been smiling, turned very grave; he shook
his head and sighed.

"Ah! I wish I could tell you!"

That was his answer.

CHAPTER XVI

THE CONFESSION OF BROOKS

We left Valoro a few days after the great festival of the New Year,
which came as a fitting finale to all our gaiety.

Christmas had been a quiet, sedate feast in the nature of a Sunday. We
left just as the premonitory signs of the rainy season were making
themselves apparent.

St. Nivel's friends, the American attaches, told him that we were well
out of it, as the rains were torrential.

Dolores and I commenced the journey with much satisfaction; up to the
last we had feared that Don Juan might have altered his mind and left
his daughter at home, but I think the old gentleman began to
understand, if he thought about it at all, that if he left Dolores
behind, he would also have to leave me too.

Our departure was on the morrow of a great banquet, given by Don Juan
to many of the notabilities of Valoro in our honour.

It was one of the grandest dinners I was ever present at, and the
display of ladies' dresses and jewels would have done credit to a court
function at home. But I think the sweet simple beauty of Dolores and
my cousin Ethel took the palm. On this occasion I took in to dinner a
grave and important donna with a distinct beard and moustache. I was
told that she was a model of piety and that _all_--or nearly all--pious
old ladies in Aquazilia had beards and moustaches!

Dolores sat opposite me on this occasion, and the way in which a young
military attache of Brazil paid her attention under my very nose,
stamped him at once in my estimation, with his curled-up moustache, as
a mere puppy!

I am sure Dolores thought so too, although she _did_ listen to his
tras