of the car: Who was she! What claim had the man on the steps? He received a chorus of answers none of which were intelligible. All the while he kept scrutinizing the girl, appraising the contours visible through the bridal veil. At last he waggled a finger and said:
“Cá! Cá! I will decide this later. The señorita may occupy the west room of the palace to-night, and later I will go into this matter more carefully. I have guests now.” He clapped his hands. “Ho, guards!” he called, “conduct the señorita to the west room for the night.”
Two soldiers in uniform came running down the steps. The line of marchers shrank from the armed men. The girl stared large-eyed at this swift turn in her affairs. Suddenly she clutched her betrothed's arm.
“Esteban!” she cried. “Esteban!”
The groom stood staring, apparently unable to move as the soldiers hurried down the steps.
By this time General Fombombo was escorting the drummer courteously up the stairs into the deeply recessed entrance of the palace. Strawbridge could not resist looking back to see the outcome of this singular wedding. But now the torchbearers were scattering and all the drummer could see was a confused movement in the gloom, and now and then he heard the sharp, broken shrieks of a woman.
His observations were cut short by General Fombombo who, at the top of the stairs, made a deep bow:
“My house and all that it contains are yours, señor.”
Strawbridge bowed as to this stereotype he made the formal response, “And yours also.”
