He left me none too soon. I could hear Don Pedro cursing furiously in the courtyard. Fearful that if matters came to blows, I might do an injury to the of my lady, I dragged myself away, heavy with despair. Not until I was half across the did I notice that I still held her rosary in my hand. I stared at the little gold cross with bitter . It seemed so harsh a mockery that she should have given me as parting gift that symbol of the that now yawned between us, wider and deeper than ever. Yet the gift was from her, and—I must bear my cross!  
For a moment I was to put a pistol to my head and end all. But the life within me was and strong, and the memory of my lost lady too sweet for me to myself into the unknown. In reflex from that last black thought of self-destruction there came to me even a feeble consciousness of resignation—a feeling that for her sake I must endeavor to live my life in a manner of her memory. And this feeling did not leave me, but increased in strength throughout the weary weeks of our long homeward journey.
 
We started that afternoon, immediately after the , and proceeded in a southerly direction on the road toward Durango. But I do not propose to give here the tedious details of our trip. Greatly to our disappointment, a few days brought us a parting from our noble friend Malgares, who turned over his instructions and despatch-pouch to a Captain Barelo. The latter took us so far south before rounding the lower end of the terrible Bolson de Mapimi Desert that we at one time thought he had secret orders to march us to the City of Mexico.
 
Whatever the object of this long , it served the purpose of enabling Pike and myself to take many more observations of the mines, towns, and other features of the country than if we had followed a shorter route. By the time we had swung around, north by east, up through the Province of Coahuila, and crossed over the Rio del Norte, which here is more often called the Rio Grande, we had all but one of the barrels closely packed with notes.
 
From the Rio Grande we proceeded northeastward, and crossing the border of the Province of Texas, arrived at San Antonio on the seventh of June. Here we were received with the utmost hospitality by the and beloved General Herrera and by Governor Cordero, who took us into his own quarters, offered us every favor within his power, and had a house especially prepared for the men.
 
Many other prominent persons of the town were no less cordial and . Among them was a Captain Ugarte, to whom we brought letters of introduction from Malgares. His charming wife Doña Anita was a sister of Doña Dolores. Hardly had we been introduced to her when the señora led me aside and showed me a letter which she had received from Señora Malgares a week before our arrival.
 
"My sister has roused my deepest interest, Señor Robinson, by the story of your doleful separation from your Dulcinea," she explained. "This letter begs me to do what little I can to console you."
 
"You are most kind, señora," I replied. "But I know of nothing—unless I might ask you to send a message by Doña Dolores to Señorita Alisanda."
 
"Gladly! Have you received no message from her?"
 
I shook my head sadly. She thought a moment, and then pressed me to tell her of my last meeting with Alisanda. The moment I mentioned the cross her face brightened.
 
"Permit me to see the rosary," she said.
 
I drew the bitter-sweet gift from my and handed it over to her. To my surprise, she began to examine the with a minute , feeling and shaking each in turn as she passed it along the cord. Whatever she had thought to discover, she found nothing. At the last she took up the little crucifix and turned it over in her slender hand.
 
"Ah!" she exclaimed, holding it closer to her sparkling eyes. "Her name is Alisanda Vallois."
 
"Alisanda Vallois," I repeated, wondering at the remark.
 
"A. V.—Alisanda Vallois. You have planned for a meeting in August?"
 
"No, señora. We did not plan. I have heard of no such plan."
 
"Santa Maria! Men are so stupid!" she rejoined. "Look, there is your message: 'A V—AUG'! What ever else can tha............