you to me. Now you pretend to
grieve at your deliverance; you ask me to respect the memory of your
jailer! Decency? Delicacy? What are they except artificialities, which
vanish in times of stress? Alexander the Great, Caesar, Napoleon,
Porfirio Diaz--they were strong, purposeful men; they lived as I live.
Senora, you dally with love."

Alaire's face was white with anger as she replied: "You cause me to
forget that you are my guest. Are you the man I considered you or the
man you are reported to be?"

"Eh?"

"Are you the gentleman, the friend, you pretended to be, or--the vandal
whom no woman can trust? You treat me as if you were my jailer. What do
you mean? What kind of man are you to take advantage of my bereavement?"

After a moment's consideration Longorio began haltingly: "I don't know
what kind of man I am, for you have changed me so. There was a
time--I--I have done things--I have scorned all restraint, all laws
except those of my desires, and so, perhaps, I am a vandal. Make sure
of this, however--I shall not injure you. Christ is no more sacred to
me than you, my heart's treasure. You accuse me of indelicacy because I
lack the strength to smother my admiration. I adore you; my being
dissolves, my veins are afire with longing for you; I am mad with the
knowledge that you are mine. Mad? Caramba! I am insane; my mind
totters; I grope my way like a man blinded by a dazzling light; I
suffer agonies. But see! I refuse to touch you. I am a giant in my
restraint. The strength of heroes is mine, and I strangle my impulses
as they are born, although the effort kills me. Senora, I await the
moment of your voluntary surrender. I wait for you." He extended his
arms, and Alaire saw that his olive features were distorted with
emotion; that his hands, his whole thin, high-strung body were shaking
uncontrollably.

She could summon no coherent words.

"You believed I was a hawk and would seize you, eh?" he queried. "Is
that why you continue to shrink? Well, let me tell you something, if my
tongue will frame the thoughts in my mind. My passion is so deep and so
sacred that I would not be content with less than all of you. Your lips
would not satisfy mine unless they were hot with love, your kisses wet
with desire. I must have you all, and so I wait, trembling. I say this
so badly that I doubt if you understand. Listen, then: to possess you
by force would be--well, as if I sacked a cathedral of its golden
images and expec