t his ruin would be her misery,
that his death might also be her death, made Pedro--for the first and
last time in his life--regard his duty falteringly. For his love for
Pancha was so loyal, so utterly unselfish, that even this very love he
was ready to sacrifice for her; ready, for her happiness' sake, to
yield her to another's arms. The question that now confronted him was
whether or not he could sacrifice for Pancha his honor.

What made this cruel strait in which Pedro found himself crueler still
was the certainty that should he save his honor no one at all (yet it
was only Pancha of whom he thought) would believe that in capturing
Pepe he had been prompted by any higher motive than revenge. Should
Pepe be harmed, Pancha would hate him; should Pepe be killed,--and
the chances favored this issue, for Pepe was a man who far rather
would die than surrender,--Pancha would turn from him in horror,
as a loathsome creature too base even to die. These thoughts went
whirlingly through Pedro's mind, and there came to him no safe issue
from his perplexity. Toward whichever of the two paths before him he
turned, he saw standing a figure with a drawn sword: Love barred the
way of Honor; Honor barred the way of Love.

At last, the conflict still continuing in his breast, he slowly arose
from his seat on the stone bench, and slowly walked back into the
town; but he took the streets by the hospital and the market-place,
thus leaving the _arroyo_ of the _ojo de agua_ far out of his path. As
he entered the barracks the sentinel looked at him curiously. "Oho!
there has been a quarrel," he thought. "To quarrel with 'La Reina,' my
little captain must be a very great fool!"

The noise and confusion, the loud talking and coarse laughter of the
barracks jarred on Pedro, and presently he went out again. Walking
without purpose, he retraced unconsciously his steps toward the
Alameda. Then, finding of a sudden an object, he walked on rapidly
until the shady lanes beyond the Alameda were traversed and he stood
at the gate of the Campo Santo. Reverently he entered between the
stone pillars of the gate-way and stood in the presence of the holy
dead.

In a shady corner of the old grave-yard he seated himself upon a
stone that had fallen from the wall, and took up again resolutely
the problem that he had to solve. There in the perfect peace and
stillness, with only the dead about him for witnesses, the great
battle of his life was fought and