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From that moment may evil cling to her, bad luck follow her; may she love and not be loved; may friends desert her, her sisters shame her, her brothers disown her " There was a clatter of horse's hoofs in the courtyard. "It is your lover," said her woman coldly from the doorway. "He is riding away from you." " and those," added Rubia, "whom she has loved abandon her."
He went out, and one by one, with sullen looks and hostile demeanour, Rubia's escort followed. Their manner was unmistakable; they were deserting her. Rubia clasped her hands over her eyes. "Madre de Dios, Madre de Dios," she moaned over and over again. Then in a low voice she repeated her own words: "May it be a blight to her.
They call out after her, 'Look at the Rubia! Look at the Rubiacita! They call out in the streets. She is timid." "And you? You are not timid eh?" the father pronounced, slowly. She tossed back all her dark hair. "Nobody calls out after me." Old Giorgio contemplated his children thoughtfully. There was two years difference between them. They had been born to him late, years after the boy had died.
At the end of that time he had remembered her had awakened to the fact that his infatuation for Rubia was infatuation, and had resolved to end the affair and go back to Buelna as soon as it was possible. But Rubia was quick to notice the cooling of his passion. First she fixed him with oblique suspicion from under her long lashes, then avoided him, then kept him at her side for days together.
The flowers of rosemary give over great part of their flavour in distillation with pure spirit; by watery liquors, their fragrance is much injured; by beating, destroyed. RUBIA tinctorum. MADDER. Roots. L. E. D. It has little or no smell; a sweetish taste, mixed with a little bitterness.
He half believed in curses, had seen two-headed calves born because of them, and sheep stampeded over cliffs for no other reason. Now, as he drew out of Pacheco Pass and came down into the valley the idea of Rubia and her curse troubled him. At first, when yet three days' journey from Buelna, it had been easy to resolve to brave it out.
Meanwhile Felipe, hatless, bloody, was galloping through the night, his pony's head turned toward the hacienda of Martiarena. The Rancho Martiarena lay between his own rancho and the inn where he had met Rubia, so that this distance was not great. He reached it in about an hour of vigorous spurring.
She caught him about the neck with both her arms. Almost incoherently her words rushed from her tight-shut teeth. "Ah, I can make you love me. I can make you love me," she cried. "You shall come back to me. You are mine, and you cannot help but come back." "Por Dios, Rubia," he ejaculated, "remember yourself. You are out of your head." "Come back to me; love me." "No, no." "Come back to me."
Confusion seized upon him. All that was clear in his mind were the last words of Rubia. It seemed to him that between his lips he carried a poison deadly to Buelna above all others. Stupidly, brutally he precipitated the catastrophe. "No," he exclaimed seriously, abruptly drawing his hand from Buelna's, "no. It may not be. I cannot." Martiarena stared. Then: "Is this a jest, senor?" he demanded.
There had been a time, three months past, when Felipe found no compulsion in the admission, for though betrothed to Buelna Martiarena he had abruptly conceived a violent infatuation for Rubia, and had remained a guest upon her rancho many weeks longer than he had intended. For three months he had forgotten Buelna entirely.
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