General Fitzhugh Lee, American consul here in Havana, former Civil War hero and nephew of Robert E. "He's fat," Amelia said. "That's all?"

"He told me he thinks the Maine was blown up by a mine that was the work of a few, quote, 'malicious individuals." Interesting? Not unlike saying some naughty boys did it. He also believes that nearly every person born on this island is instilled with a dislike of the Spaniards and their methods. Even, he said, those born of Spanish parents."

Interesting.

Another one. What about the former captain-general, Weyler, known to one and all as "the Butcher"?

"He has rather soft blue eyes for a Spaniard."

"Really."

"He asked me to leave Rollie and go to Madrid with him. I thought about it-I've never been to Europe."

"Amelia, the man's a monster, the most bloodthirsty military leader in recent history."

"I didn't go, did I?"

Neely would tell her that one of these days she actually would become tired of Rollie and leave him. "Then what will you do?"

"I haven't thought about it."

"When you were a girl, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

"I'm still a girl, Neely. I'm only twenty."

"How old?"

"Does it matter? What you're trying to say is, didn't I dream of becoming something more respectable than a courtesan, a rich man's girlfriend? Well, yes, I could see myself married to someone like him, but would I be better off?"

"Could you see yourself married to an ordinary working man?"

"Well, not if he's just ordinary. What would be wrong with his having money? The question is, do I want to marry someday and have babies? I don't know. I guess I've never thought about it."

The feeling Neely had, he wouldn't be surprised to see Amelia step out of some type of cause clbre incident and become world-famous overnight.

"In the company of a visiting dignitary," Amelia said, "when he's assassinated, shot through the heart by an anarchist, and in the photograph you see his blood all over my white organdy tea dress."

Neely said he had in mind something more on the order of what Mr. William Randolph Hearst did with Evangelina Cisneros in the Journal.

"Invented her," Amelia said.

"Well, she did exist," Neely said. "They found her in prison awaiting trial for rebellious actions against the state." "Or was it for not going to bed with the alcalde?" "Amelia, there was a worldwide petition to get her out, 'the beautiful seventeen-year-old daughter of the revolution languishing in Death's Shadow," Casa de Recogidas, the vilest prison in all Cuba. Julia Ward Howe said, "How can we think of this pure flower of maidenhood condemned to live with felons and outcasts, without succor, without protection'… something about 'under a torrid sky, suffering privation, indignity"

"How do you remember all that?"

"It didn't do Evangelina any good at all. Spain wanted to send her to an even worse prison, in Africa. So one of Mr. Hearst's boys helped her escape."

"You mean," Amelia said, "he paid off the guards and she walked out."

"They made it look like an escape-it's the same thing. The beautiful Evangelina was escorted to Washington, where she was received by President McKinley…"

"Julia Ward Howe singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic'?"

"Possibly. The president, anyway, and one hundred thousand cheering Americans."

Amelia said she never thought Evangelina Cisneros was that good-looking. Neely said, well, she wasn't bad.

This evening at the hotel cigar counter Neely said, "You know something? I would rather write about you than Julia Ward Howe."

"And Clara Barton?"

"Even Clara Barton, and there's a good story there. The Red Cross has brought in so much condensed milk for the starving children, some of the Cubans are selling it to buy cigars. Oh, and before too long I want to interview that insurgent leader they call Islero, I'm told a very colorful character." "Colorful meaning colored?"

"That's right, Islero is pure Negro, a slave at one time, before he ran away to become a bloodthirsty bandit and evolved, finally, into a moderately famous insurrectionist. He's known as the Black Death. Or it might be the Black Plague; now I'm not sure."

"What about the cowboy? He might be interesting," Amelia said. She turned from the cigar counter. "He's right over there as we speak."

By the dining room talking to his partner and Rollie's man, Victor Fuentes, the cowboy looking this way as Fuentes said something to him. Amelia smiled and watched him touch his new panama.

"I already know a few things about him," Neely said. "One, he was born and raised in your hometown, New Orleans."

"You made that up."

"Lives in Arizona now. He's been to prison." "Really. What did he do?" "Robbed banks."

Amelia said, "Oh my," her eyes shining.

It wasn't more than moments later Lionel Tavalera, in civilian clothes, a black suit, walked past them from the hotel entrance and started across the lobby. Neely saw him first. He said, "Well, look who's here," fairly sure Boudreaux knew him, and maybe Amelia did too.

She said, "The major himself," sounding surprised. Because of the way he was dressed, or being in this hotel, or what? They watched Tavalera walk up to Ben Tyler and begin talking to him.

Neely said, "You do know Lionel, I take it."

Amelia, staring across the lobby, said, "I watched him kill two men."

"My God-where was this?"

"I'll tell you about it sometime."

"Lionel and some hussar officers," Neely said, "had a set to with the cowboy this afternoon. According to Charlie Burke one of them was interested in buying a horse. He asked the cowboy to saddle it for him and Tyler refused. What he said was, "I'm not your mozo."

Amelia drew on her cigarette, inhaled and blew out a slow stream of smoke. She said, " "I'm not your mozo," huh?" watching Lionel Tavalera coming back this way now with a set expression, walking past them toward the street entrance.

"It doesn't appear," Amelia said, "anything was settled, does it?"

"Meanwhile," Neely said, "Tyler and his friends are repairing to the bar. Did I notice him looking this way? Certainly not at me. I'm going to San Ambrosio tomorrow to check on the marine, see if he's regained his speech. If you'd like to come…" He let it hang and said, "You're right, it's not settled," as Tavalera came back past them accompanied now by a young man with a pointy mustache, also in a black business suit. They crossed the lobby toward the bar.

When Amelia didn't comment, Neely said, "That, speak of the devil, is the hussar officer, Lieutenant Teobaldo Barban, who asked Tyler to saddle the horse for him. Tyler is said to have replied, "What's the matter, you helpless?"

"Well, naturally," Amelia said, "since he isn't his mozo."

"You like that, don't you? Remember last month I did an essay, "For Honor's Sake: The Rites of Duello'?"

"I recall your working on it."

"That's what I mean; it hasn't run yet. But Teo Barban was my main source. I asked him what it was like to call a man out, point pistols at each other and, under quite formal conditions, shoot the man through the heart."

Amelia said, "Why don't you accompany me into the bar."

There was no question in Neely's mind, Teo Barban was going to walk up to Tyler and demand satisfaction, lay down the challenge to meet him in the morning with pistols. It was what this young hussar officer had done successfully three times since arriving in Cuba. There was a story told about a New York correspondent who offended or insulted Teo in some way. When Teo's second presented the challenge the correspondent said, "I'll fight the don if he can prove he's white and has at least two clean shirts." But when Teo sought out the correspondent he was told the gentleman had been called back to America.