He was quite a good business man, and had proved himself so before his father died--very quick to see a chance, and even quicker to see where the distant, sharp corners in the road were; though not so quick to see the pitfalls, for his head was ever in the air.

And here on the Antoine, there crossed his mind often the vision of Carmen Dolores and himself in the parish of St.
Saviour's, with the daily life of the Beau Cheval revolving about him.
Flashes of danger warned him now and then, just at the beginning of the journey, as it were; just before he had found it necessary to become her champion against the captain and his calumnies; but they were of the instant only.

But champion as he became, and worshipping as his manner seemed, it all might easily have been put down to a warm, chivalrous, and spontaneous nature, which had not been bitted or bridled, and he might have landed at Quebec without committing himself, were it not for the fact that he was not to land at Quebec.
That was the fact which controlled his destiny.

He had spent many, many hours with the Dona Dolores, talking, talking, as he loved to talk, and only saving himself from the betise of boring her by the fact that his enthusiasm had in it so fresh a quality, and because he was so like her Gonzales that she could always endure him.

Besides, quick of intelligence as she was, she was by nature more material than she looked, and there was certainly something physically attractive in him--some curious magnetism.