as any other man would--with the
heart, and with that alone. She is more to me than his Church to Father
Corbelan (the Grand Vicar disappeared last night from the town; perhaps
gone to join the band of Hernandez). She is more to me than his precious
mine to that sentimental Englishman. I won't speak of his wife. She may
have been sentimental once. The San Tome mine stands now between those
two people. 'Your father himself, Antonia,' I repeated; 'your father, do
you understand? has told me to go on.'

"She averted her face, and in a pained voice--

"'He has?' she cried. 'Then, indeed, I fear he will never speak again.'

"She freed her wrists from my clutch and began to cry in her
handkerchief. I disregarded her sorrow; I would rather see her miserable
than not see her at all, never any more; for whether I escaped or stayed
to die, there was for us no coming together, no future. And that being
so, I had no pity to waste upon the passing moments of her sorrow. I
sent her off in tears to fetch Dona Emilia and Don Carlos, too. Their
sentiment was necessary to the very life of my plan; the sentimentalism
of the people that will never do anything for the sake of their
passionate desire, unless it comes to them clothed in the fair robes of
an idea.

"Late at night we formed a small junta of four--the two women, Don
Carlos, and myself--in Mrs. Gould's blue-and-white boudoir.

"El Rey de Sulaco thinks himself, no doubt, a very honest man. And so
he is, if one could look behind his taciturnity. Perhaps he thinks
that this alone makes his honesty unstained. Those Englishmen live on
illusions which somehow or other help them to get a firm hold of the
substance. When he speaks it is by a rare 'yes' or 'no' that seems as
impersonal as the words of an oracle. But he could not impose on me by
his dumb reserve. I knew what he had in his head; he has his mine in
his head; and his wife had nothing in her head but his precious person,
which he has bound up with the Gould Concession and tied up to that
little woman's neck. No matter. The thing was to make him present the
affair to Holroyd (the Steel and Silver King) in such a manner as to
secure his financial support. At that time last night, just twenty-four
hours ago, we thought the silver of the mine safe in the Custom House
vaults till the north-bound steamer came to take it away. And as long as
the treasure flowed north, without a break, that utter sentimentalist,
Holroyd, would no