Bah! those French frocks are enough to drive a man a mile away.

I can almost forgive her now.

Had she worn the French frock I would not have forgiven her.

I would never have yielded again, no, not even if the Senorita Antonia should offer me her scarlet Indian shawl worked in gold.

I was always a fool--Holy Mother forgive me! Well, then; I used to have my own lovers--plenty of them--handsome young arrieros and rancheros: there was Tadeo, a valento of the first class: and Buffa--and--well, I will sleep; they do not remember me, I dare say; and I have forgotten their names." In the mean time the sisters sat down beneath a great fig-tree.