Of course--oh look, there is
Carlos. He must be looking everywhere for me."
A tall man, clad in the helmet and boots of a Spanish military
officer, stood in the center of the floor, intently watching each
couple as it passed. Adelita he followed closely with his eyes, as if
perplexed. Then he shook his head.
"He does not know me," she laughed.
But at the end of that dance he strode up to her and bowed.
"May I have the honor?"
She said nothing, but inclined her head. Then they waltzed off.
Henderson stood at the side watching the whirling crowd. The vivid
reds and yellows and greens of the costumes blended harmoniously in a
swirl of color that seemed a part of the music, the laughter, and the
splendor of the night. Just then the couple passed, the man talking
intently, the girl with her head bowed, saying nothing. As the dance
ended, Henderson was about to go up and accost an attractive looking
shepherdess, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around,
surprised. It was the tall officer whom Adelita had called Carlos.
"Stranger," he said in English, "why have you made my Adela, Senorita
de Marcelo, try to hide from me? Do you think, although she has not
spoken, that I could fail to know her? Do you think I would not
recognize her even if she came in a black cowl and robe? Who are you
that have dared speak to her as you have? I have watched her--and you.
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