all day in the rose garden, until she is as white and
fade away as the rose. And Vincente he eat nossing, but drink mooch
aguardiente. Then he have fever and go dead. And Rosita she have
fainting and fits; and one day they have look for her in the rose
garden, and she is not! And they poosh and poosh in the ground for her,
and they find her with so mooch rose-leaves--so deep--on top of her. SHE
has go dead. It is a very sad story, and when you hear it you are very,
very mooch dissatisfied."

It is to be feared that the two Americans were not as thrilled by this
sad recital as the fair narrator had expected, and even Dick ventured to
point out that those sort of things happened also to his countrymen, and
were not peculiar to the casa.

"But you said that there was a terrible sequel," suggested Cecily
smilingly: "tell us THAT. Perhaps Mr. Bracy may receive it a little more
politely."

An expression of superstitious gravity, half real, half simulated, came
over Dona Felipa's face, although her vivacity of gesticulation and
emphasis did not relax. She cast a hurried glance around her, and leaned
a little forward towards the cousins.

"When there are no more young people in the casa because they are dead,"
she continued, in a lower voice, "Don Gregorio he is very melank-oaly,
and he have no more company for many years. Then there was a rodeo near
the hacienda, and there came five or six caballeros to stay with him
for the feast. Notabilimente comes then Don Jorge Martinez. He is a bad
man--so weeked--a Don Juan for making lofe to the ladies. He lounge in
the garden, he smoke his cigarette, he twist the moustache--so! One day
he came in, and he laugh and wink so and say, 'Oh, the weeked, sly Don
Gregorio! He have hid away in the casa a beautiful, pret-ty girl, and
he will nossing say.' And the other caballeros say, 'Mira! what is this?
there is not so mooch as one young lady in the casa.' And Don Jorge he
wink, and he say, 'Imbeciles! pigs!' And he walk in the garden and twist
his moustache more than ever. And one day, behold! he walk into the
casa, very white and angry, and he swear mooch to himself; and he orders
his horse, and he ride away, and never come back no more, never-r-r!
And one day another caballero, Don Esteban Briones, he came in, and say,
'Hola! Don Jorge has forgotten his pret-ty girl: he have left her over
on the garden bench. Truly I have seen.' And they say, 'We will too.'
And they go, and there is no