Bandit Love

"I expect you to take my love-making seriously, Myra," he answered.

"Your expectations will not be realised, Don Carlos, and if you attempt

to repeat your conduct of to-day there will be trouble," said Myra,

forcing herself to meet his ardent eyes unflinchingly. "It is

unsportsmanlike to try to excuse yourself by throwing the blame on me,

pleading, like Adam, 'The woman tempted me.' You might at least

express regret for your conduct."

"I have no regrets, Myra," murmured Don Carlos. "I have tasted the

nectar of your lips, and now I hunger for a banquet of love."

"In that case you will surely die of starvation," said Myra, with a

light laugh.

"Dios! how you torture me, Myra!" muttered Don Carlos frowningly. "I

hoped you would tell me you had found your heart, that my kisses had at

last awakened it. I love you, love you with every fibre of my being,

and you--you love, yet you refrain."

"Quoting Henley, aren't you, Don Carlos, and trying the effect of

pathos by way of a change?" retorted Myra. "How amusing! As far as I

am concerned, you can 'break your heart on my hard unfaith and break

your heart in vain...' Don't grip my hand so tightly. You are hurting

me."

"I will hurt you if you are trifling with me and making mock of my

love," said Don Carlos quickly, through clenched teeth. "Don't try me

too far, Myra. Beware lest my love turns to hate!"

"Beware lest my love turns to hate!" mimicked Myra, and trilled out a

laugh. "You are talking like a character in an old-fashioned

melodrama. Should I play up to you by crying, 'Unhand me, villain,'

turning deathly pale, and screaming for help. Don't be absurd! ... We

won't dance the encore. But if you will promise to be sensible and

refrain from talking extravagant nonsense, you may take me in to

supper."

She felt certain that she had both hurt and puzzled Don Carlos, and she

gloried in the thought, flattering herself that she was really taking

her revenge. She was completely mistress of herself again, sure of her

own powers, and during supper she laid herself out to be "nice," with

almost devastating effect, playing on the emotions of the Spaniard like

a skilled musician on a sensitive instrument. Deliberately she

encouraged him, only to rebuff him when she had inflamed his ardour,

deliberately she set herself to excite his passions, only to reward him

with a cold douche of ridicule.