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"
Isidora
Covarubio
De
Los
Llanos
.
"
"
Carajo
!
an
assignation
!
"
half
shrieked
the
indignant
Diaz
.
"
That
and
nothing
else
!
She
,
too
,
the
proposer
.
Ha
!
Her
invitation
shall
be
answered
;
though
not
by
him
for
whom
it
is
so
cunningly
intended
.
Kept
to
the
hour
--
to
the
very
minute
;
and
by
the
Divinity
of
Vengeance
--
"
Here
,
José
!
this
note
's
of
no
use
The
man
to
whom
it
is
addressed
is
n't
any
longer
in
the
pueblita
,
nor
anywhere
about
here
.
God
knows
where
he
is
!
There
's
some
mystery
about
it
.
No
matter
.
You
go
on
to
the
posada
,
and
make
your
inquiries
all
the
same
.
You
must
do
that
to
fulfil
your
errand
.
Never
mind
the
papelcito
;
leave
it
with
me
.
You
can
have
it
to
take
to
your
mistress
,
as
you
come
back
this
way
.
Here
's
a
dollar
to
get
you
a
drink
at
the
inn
.
Señor
Doffer
keeps
the
best
kind
of
aguardiente
.
Hasta
luejo
!
"
Without
staying
to
question
the
motive
for
these
directions
given
to
him
,
José
,
after
accepting
the
douceur
,
yielded
tacit
obedience
to
them
,
and
took
his
departure
from
the
jacalé
.
He
was
scarce
out
of
sight
before
Diaz
also
stepped
over
its
threshold
.
Hastily
setting
the
saddle
upon
his
horse
,
he
sprang
into
it
,
and
rode
off
in
the
opposite
direction
.
The
sun
has
just
risen
clear
above
the
prairie
horizon
,
his
round
disc
still
resting
upon
the
sward
,
like
a
buckler
of
burnished
gold
.
His
rays
are
struggling
into
the
chapparal
,
that
here
and
there
diversifies
the
savanna
.
The
dew-beads
yet
cling
upon
the
acacias
,
weighting
their
feathery
fronds
,
and
causing
them
to
droop
earthward
,
as
if
grieving
at
the
departure
of
the
night
,
whose
cool
breeze
and
moist
atmosphere
are
more
congenial
to
them
than
the
fiery
sirocco
of
day
.
Though
the
birds
are
stirring
--
for
what
bird
could
sleep
under
the
shine
of
such
glorious
sunrise
?
--
it
is
almost
too
early
to
expect
human
being
abroad
--
elsewhere
than
upon
the
prairies
of
Texas
.
There
,
however
,
the
hour
of
the
sun
's
rising
is
the
most
enjoyable
of
the
day
;
and
few
there
are
who
spend
it
upon
the
unconscious
couch
,
or
in
the
solitude
of
the
chamber
.
By
the
banks
of
the
Leona
,
some
three
miles
below
Fort
Inge
,
there
is
one
who
has
forsaken
both
,
to
stray
through
the
chapparal
.
This
early
wanderer
is
not
afoot
,
but
astride
a
strong
,
spirited
horse
,
that
seems
impatient
at
being
checked
in
his
paces
.
By
this
description
,
you
may
suppose
the
rider
to
be
a
man
;
but
,
remembering
that
the
scene
is
in
Southern
Texas
still
sparsely
inhabited
by
a
Spano-Mexican
population
--
you
are
equally
at
liberty
to
conjecture
that
the
equestrian
is
a
woman
.
And
this
,
too
,
despite
the
round
hat
upon
the
head
--
despite
the
serapé
upon
the
shoulders
,
worn
as
a
protection
against
the
chill
morning
air
--
despite
the
style
of
equitation
,
so
outré
to
European
ideas
,
since
the
days
of
La
Duchesse
de
Berri
;
and
still
further
,
despite
the
crayon-like
colouring
on
the
upper
lip
,
displayed
in
the
shape
of
a
pair
of
silken
moustaches
.
More
especially
may
this
last
mislead
;
and
you
may
fancy
yourself
looking
upon
some
Spanish
youth
,
whose
dark
but
delicate
features
bespeak
the
hijo
de
algo
,
with
a
descent
traceable
to
the
times
of
the
Cid
.
If
acquainted
with
the
character
of
the
Spano-Mexican
physiognomy
,
this
last
sign
of
virility
does
not
decide
you
as
to
the
sex
.
It
may
be
that
the
rider
in
the
Texan
chapparal
,
so
distinguished
,
is
,
after
all
,
a
woman
!
