The Beautiful Eyes of Ysidria | Page 9

awful woman have in hand?" I asked myself, "What, but
some wickedness. I wish she did not follow me so closely. Worse than
all, she may tell the fair Ysidria what a fool I made of myself over her
handkerchief; I almost wish with Catalina that the good old days were
here again." I walked home more slowly, and entering the house quietly,
reached my room just as the clock struck two.

V.
The winter went, and the hot summer passed pleasantly.
It was about the beginning of October, when one morning, I walked
down to Madre Moreno's house. I had become a constant visitor at the
witch's cottage, and often dined there. The accident which had so oddly
introduced Ysidria to me was not serious, and in a few days she was
completely recovered. Ysidria served at the simple meals of Madre
Moreno, and no one ever mixed my wine more to my taste than she did,
and no one could make better cordial than Ysidria did with the sweet
leaves of the yerba buena steeped in the sauternes which I made from
my vineyard, and with which I supplied the Madre.
Ysidria grew apparently more beautiful every day, and the brilliancy of
her eyes, which had attracted my notice at first, became even more
marked.
I had begun reading aloud to her on afternoons, as we sat in the Moreno
veranda, for Ysidria's eyes, though strong and of great power for distant
vision, often entirely failed her when reading or looking at any near
object, so I found great pleasure in my visits, and as the Madre was
seldom present to annoy me, I thoroughly enjoyed every moment, as
Ysidria had become a necessity to my happiness, and I loved her.
On the morning of which I have spoken, I went to keep a walking
engagement, and found Ysidria waiting for me in the garden. As I
approached, I noticed that she held her reboso in her hand and was
laughing immoderately, while she tripped from one end of the path to

the other, singing snatches of songs or impromptu rhymes. As I stood
by the gate she did not see me, though she came very near, near enough
to have touched me.
I felt a chill pass over me as I looked at the beautiful creature; there was
something so unnatural, so weird about her actions, that I felt as if I
were gazing upon a being from another world. Her eyes were brighter
than ever before, but in them was no sight for what was near her; they
seemed fixed upon objects far away. I could not speak, for when I tried
to utter her name my voice refused to come, so I turned and went
sorrowful and puzzled back to my home.
The suspense I endured was almost unbearable. By the afternoon I went
again to the Madre's house, and with strange forebodings knocked at
the door, which was answered by Ysidria; she seemed to be completely
recovered from her late mysterious attack, nor did she allude to
anything having occurred during the morning out of the usual course,
excepting that she twitted me for not keeping my engagement with her.
She laughed as she took her reboso from the table, saying that she was
out of patience, and that I must take the walk with her as punishment.
I, of course said nothing of my morning visit, or what I had witnessed,
but it troubled me greatly all the afternoon.
We walked and talked, and now my good friends thank me for not
reporting that conversation; it was fascinating, and even now I think
there were glintings of common sense in it, but really not enough to
warrant the extra type setting, (for which my publishers charge
outrageously), required to give it. It was the same sort of thing you
talked last summer with Guadaloupe at Catalina Island, Morris, and the
same you talked with Vinnie in the Sierras, George, and the same you
talked with all the girls in the States last year, Dickey. You don't want
to hear it again, and I must cut expenses somewhere.
It is enough to say, that though nothing was said, both Ysidria and I
knew that we loved, and we knew whom. When we reached Madre
Moreno's house, she came out and invited me to supper; there was a
smile, a disagreeable, malicious smile on her face as she spoke, and not

caring to alloy the pleasure of my afternoon with Ysidria by enduring
the Madre's company, I refused, and walked over to my house.

VI.
"Vengeance is mine and I will repay;" such was the text of Padre
Arguello's discourse that hot October day, before his little congregation
in Bolinas. The good father became as