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 in it when he smiled, and the light of his eyes grew happier.

"There is another order that I ask you to give," Helena said. "Please send to the house and direct Doña Carlota to bring my dresses."

"Why not go yourself? She can't lock you up again."

"It is a treacherous house, I'll not enter it again, Gabriel. My place is in the field, besides. I am a soldier, I fare as soldiers fare—only I want my dresses."

So it was ordered, and Doña Carlota came, not stooping to a maid's service, certainly, but followed by women who carried Helena's wardrobe overflowing in their arms.

"Where is my dove?" Doña Carlota demanded, full of terror for the cannon, giving it wide room in passing.

She stopped near the door where Helena waited her, a black mantilla over her sleek hair. She was afraid of the idle people who had given themselves a holiday without so much as a look toward Don Abrahan for permission. Simon, the temporary overseer—there being no new mayordomo appointed yet in Don Felipe's place—being away on greater affairs, and not likely in the present state of things to be especially anxious to return. Doña Carlota was afraid, above all things, of Don Felipe, whom she had not recognized in his grim black smear of beard, his dusty clothing and fierce, keen fighting air.