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. She had a well of sensuousness which might one day become
sensuality; she had a richness of feeling and a contour in harmony with
it, which might expand into voluptuousness, if given too much sun, or if
untamed by the normal restraints of a happy married life.
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