"Beware of the conservative course, Colonel," lisped Van Dorn, "except
when generous Patty makes the punch; for she holds such measure of it
that she does not see our infirmities."
"Honey," cried Patty Cannon to Levin, giving him an affectionate hug,
"have ye swallered yer liquor so smart as that? Why, I love to see a
nice boy drink."
"But no more for him now, _cajela_," the Captain protested; "two such
will make him fall off his horse. _Bebamos_, Patty! _Esta
excelente!_"--drinking.
"How purty the Captain says them things," the madam cried to the
gentleman within. "Maybe he's a mockin' his ole sweetheart. Oh, Van
Dorn, if I thought you could forget me I would kill you!"
Levin noticed the rapid temper and demoniac face of this not unengaging
lady as she spoke, her whole nature turning its course like a wheeling
bat, and from plausibility to an instant's jealousy, and then to a dark
tide of awful rage, took but a thought.
"_Que disparate! hala o he!_" Van Dorn lisped, sweetly, chucking the
hostess under the chin; "but I do love to see thee so, thou charmer of
my life. Never will I desert thee, Patty, whilst thou can suffer."
Her dark clouds slowly passed away as Levin turned from the place, but
her small head and abundant raven hair showed the blood troubled to the
roots, and the eyes, once rich with midnight depths, now glazing in the
course of time, like old window panes, by age, searched the bandit's
face with a strange fear:
"Van Dorn, time and pleasure cannot kill you: how well you look to-day.
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