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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Evasio Mon will not leave us long idle," said Sarrion, when the man had gone, and he had hardly spoken when the servant ushered in a second visitor, a man also of the road, who handed to Marcos a crumpled and dirty envelope. He had nothing to say about it, so bowed and withdrew. He was a man of the newer stamp, for he was a railway worker, having that which is considered a better manner.
It was in the house of the old cura of Torre Garda that Sarrion looked his last on the man with whom he had played in childhood's days with whom he had never quarrelled, though he had tried to do so often enough. The memory he retained of Evasio Mon was not unpleasant; for he was smiling as he lay in the darkened room of the priest's humble house. He was bland even in death.
But the eyes before which Evasio Mon turned aside were grave enough. "It is not a mere politeness," he answered. "I have known Marcos since he was a child; and have watched his progress in the world not always with a light heart." "That is kind of you," replied Juanita. "But why watch him if it gives you pain?" Mon laughed. He was quick to see a joke and Juanita, he knew, was a gay soul.
Marcos was still talking politics with his friend from the mountains when she passed beneath his window. Sarrion and Evasio Mon had gone to the dining-room, where, it was to be presumed, Cousin Peligros had followed them. She professed a great admiration for Evasio Mon, who was on familiar terms with people of the highest distinction. An hour's start would be sufficient.
"There is another visitor coming to make inquiry into your welfare it is Senor Mon." And she looked for the gleam that immediately lighted Marcos' dark eyes. Sarrion was out. He had ridden to a distant hamlet earlier in the day. The tidings of this journey might well have reached Evasio Mon's ears.
I hardly know the man at all though he tells me that he is an old friend of yours. He lives in Saragossa." "Ah!" said Sarrion, who was listening with rather marked attention. Juanita had moved away, but she was standing now, listening also, looking back over her shoulder with waiting eyes. "It was the Senior Evasio Mon," said the doctor.
In a few minutes his father's carriage must cross the bridge with that hollow sound of wheels which Evasio Mon had mistaken for guns. A breeze was springing up and the candle which Marcos had set on a table near the open window guttered. He blew it out and went out in the darkness.
THE STORMY PETREL As Juanita quitted the room she heard Sarrion ask Evasio Mon if he had lunched. And Mon admitted that he had as yet omitted that meal. Juanita shrugged her shoulders. It is only in later life that we come to realise the importance of meals. If Mon was hungry he should have said so. She gave no further thought to him. She hated him.
With a Spanish formality of manner, Sarrion placed his horse at the disposition of Evasio Mon, should the traveller feel disposed to pass the night at Torre Garda. But Mon declined. "I am a bird of passage," he explained. "I am due in Pampeluna again to-night. I shall enjoy the ride down the valley now that your hospitality has so well equipped me for the journey "
"Such a fortune as yours," he said, with an easy laugh, "would make or mar any cause you see. Your fortune is perhaps your misfortune who knows?" Juanita laughed also, as at a pleasant conceit. The wit that had baffled Father Muro was ready for Evasio Mon. A woman will take her stand before her own heart and defy the world. Juanita's eyes flashed across the man's gentle face.
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