The _marquesa_ had felt impelled to accept an invitation to go once more to the works to see the progress of the dam. Things were now at such a pass between Pirovani and the French engineer that she had felt it necessary to her own peace to sooth the latter by accepting his suggestion that she ride out with him. For his part, he felt that he must show her once again that he was after all the directing spirit of the enterprise, and that the contractor, on that ground at least, had to submit himself very often to his commands.
While they were on these excursions the Captain could talk much more freely to Elena than at her house. The fact that the _marqués_ was busy with the work of planning the canal system aroused all sorts of hopes and illusions in the captain’s breast. If only the _marquesa_ would consent to riding with him, alone, along the river bank....
But, as though she had divined his thoughts, she insisted that Moreno go with them. Only on that condition would she consent....
“Because you see, you’re dangerous, _señor_ Canterac,” said Elena, pretending to be afraid, and at the same time laughing at her pretended fear.
“I’ll go with you only if this friend of ours, who is the father of a family, and a thoroughly serious sort of person, goes along with us.”
Moreno, pleased at having been included, but at the same time somewhat vexed at being described in such terms, rode along behind Elena, who paid not the slightest attention to him. She remembered him only when Canterac became too vehement in his attentions, riding close to her horse and grasping her hand, or attempting other more or less daring gallantries.
“Moreno,” she would manage to say, while the Captain was manœuvering for place, “ride forward and stay on my left.... I don’t want the Captain so near ... anyway they’re too bold! I don’t like military men!”
All three stopped their attempts at conversation to look intently at Manos Duras who was waiting motionless at the side of the road. Moreno knew who he was and murmured his name to Elena, whose interest in the _gaucho_ was so keen that she yielded to her impulse to speak to him.
“So you are the famous Manos Duras of whom we have heard so often?”
The horseman seemed a little disturbed by Elena’s words, and more so by her smile. He took off his sombrero with a reverential gesture--“as though he were in front of a miracle-working picture,” thought Moreno--Then, in a theatrical manner that was with him quite spontaneous, he replied,