r to be grasped. When she danced
his every sensibility was intensified; life, for the moment, was
immeasurably lovely, flooded with lyrical splendor, vivid with
gorgeous color and aching happiness. Charles' pleasure in every
circumstance of being was acutely expanded--his affection for Andres,
the charm of Havana, the dignity of his impending fate.

Ordinarily he would not have been content with this; he would have
striven to turn such abstractions into the concrete of an actual
experience. But now an unusual wisdom held him intent on the vision;
that, he recognized, was real; but what the reality, the woman
herself, was, who could be sure? No, he wasn't in love with La Clavel
in the accepted sense of that indefinite term; he was the slave of the
illusion, the emotions, she spun; he adored her as the goddess of his
youth and aspirations.

He tried to explain this, in halting and inadequate Spanish, to his
tertulia; and because of his spirit rather than his words, his friends
understood him. They were standing by the marble statue of Ferdinand
VII in the Plaza de Armas, waiting for the ceremony of Retrata, to
begin in a few moments. The square was made of four gardens, separated
by formal walks, with a circular glorieta; and the gardens, the royal
palms and banyans and flambeau trees, were palely lighted by gas lamps
which showed, too, the circling procession of carriages about the
Plaza. The square itself was filled with sauntering men, a shifting
pattern of white linens, broad hats and glimmering cigars, diversified
by the uniforms of Spain.

At eight o'clock a sergeant's guard and the band marched smartly into
position before the Governor-General's palace, where they stood at
rest until the drums of the barracks announced retreat. Then, at
attention, the gun of El Morro sounded, and the band swept into the
strains of Philemon et Baucis.

Jaime Quintara smiled sceptically at Charles' periods: Platonic
sentiments might satisfy Abbott, he declared, but for himself.... At
this, Remigio insisted on their moving out to inspect the carriages.
They were, for the most part, quitrins, drawn with two horses, one
outside the shafts ridden by a calesero in crimson velvet laced with
gold and a glazed hat. The quitrins had two wheels, a leather hood
strapped back, and held three passengers by means of a small
additional seat, called, Andres explained, la nina bonita, where the
prettiest woman was invariably placed. None of the