was something cruel in Don Ramón’s passive, masked poise. An impassive male cruelty, changeless as a stone idol.
“Now won’t you come and spend the day with me while I am here with Don Ramón?” said Doña Carlota. “The house is very poor and rough. It is no longer what it used to be. But it is your house if you will come.”
Kate accepted, and said she would prefer to walk out. It was only four miles, and surely she would be safe, with Juana.
“I will send a man to come with you,” said Don Ramón. “It might not be quite safe.”
“Where is General Viedma?” asked Kate.
“We shall try to get him out when you come,” replied Doña Carlota. “I am so very fond of Don Cipriano, I have known him for many years, and he is the god-father of my younger son. But now he is in command of the Guadalajara division, he is not very often able to come out.”
“I wonder why he is a general?” said Kate. “He seems to me too human.”
“Oh, but he is very human too. But he is a general; yes, yes, he wants to be in command of the soldiers. And I tell you, he is very strong. He has great power with his regiments. They believe in him, oh, they believe in him. He has that power, you know, that some of the higher types of Indians have, to make many others want to follow them and fight for them. You know? Don Cipriano is like that. You can never change him. But I think a woman might be wonderful for him. He has lived so without any woman in his life. He won’t care about them.”