I advanced and I knew as I did so that I was being watched.

Don Felipe Gonzáles rose from a chair in the shadows and bowed to me.

I said: “Where is my sister?”

He replied: “We dine alone.” He took my hand and with a graceful gesture led me to the table.

I sat in the chair at one end of the table; he took one at the other end.

“We shall converse in your barbaric tongue,” he said, “for I am acquainted with it.”

“That will be an advantage,” I replied, “for I know only a few words of your savage one.”

“You will not indulge in useless vituperation. It will serve you ill.”

“I am a prisoner here. I know that. You can hold me here I have no doubt, but you cannot force me to silence or to speech.”

“You will learn grace and courtliness here. You will learn that pointless badinage will help you not at all.”

I was irritated by his habit of saying, “You will do this and that.” He made it sound like a command. I had the impression that he was stressing the fact that I was in his power and would be forced to obey him. It frightened me. There was something cold and implacable about him.

“We will eat now, and afterward we will talk. I will then explain what is expected of you.”

He clapped his hands and servants appeared.

They carried hot dishes, which they placed on the table. We were served with some sort of fish.

It smelled good after salt meat and beans and biscuits in which there were very often weevils.

“We call this calamares en su tinta,” he told me. “You will enjoy it.”

I did, marveling that I could eat with such enjoyment in such a situation and strange company.

He talked of the food of the countryside. “You will enjoy it when you have grown accustomed to it. Taste is a matter of cultivation. Custom plays a large part in what we enjoy.”

A kind of pork followed, served with tiny green vegetables which I had not seen before. “Garbanzos con patas de cerdo,” he told me. “You will repeat it.”

I obeyed.

“Your accent shocks me,” he said. “It is unharmonious.”

“You could not expect one of my barbaric tongue to speak yours well,” I retorted.

“You speak with wisdom,” he said.

“Then I have at last won your approval.”

“You will learn that words can be wasteful. You will eat and after that we will talk and you will learn the reason for your coming.”

I said nothing and ate the food. There were fruits afterward—dates and little yellow fruit which I learned were called bananas. They were delicious.

“You will want to know where you are. There is no reason why you should not. You are on one of the chief of a group of islands once known as the Fortunate Isles.”

“And were they?” I asked.

“You will not speak unless asked to do so,” he said. “These islands were in the far-off days called Canaria because when the Romans came here there were many dogs. They called them the Islands of Dogs. Now you will hear them spoken of as the Canaries and you will understand why. The dogs have disappeared. The islands were inhabited by a race known as the Guanches—a warlike people. There are some left. They are savages and stain their bodies with the dark red resin of the dragon trees. We have subdued them. The flag of Spain now flies over these islands. The French settled here first, but they were unable to keep order. We understood how important they were to our navigation. We did not fight for them; we bought them from the French and since then we have settled here and are subduing the Guanches.”

“At least I know where I am.”

“We are on the outskirts of the town of La Laguna, which we built when we settled here. You may be allowed to go into the town. It will depend on your behavior.”

While he had been talking the food had been cleared away; but the silver jug containing a kind of mead which we had been drinking was left on the table.

The door shut; we were alone.

“You will hear now why you are here and why your path has crossed mine. You are necessary to a plan.”

“How could that be?”

“You will not be impetuous. You must be silent. You would not wish to play your part without knowing why. Nor would I wish you to. I would not have you think that I resemble the barbarians of your island home. You will be quiet therefore and learn the reason for your abduction. You will be reasonable, pliable, do what is expected of you and therefore save yourself much trouble and degradation. I am no rough pirate. I am a man of breeding. I come from a noble family; I am distantly connected with the royal house of Spain. I am a man of taste and sensibility. What I must do is distasteful to me. I trust you will make it as tolerable as possible. I will continue.”

I bowed my head submissively.

“I am the Governor of these islands, which I hold in the name of Spain. I have told you how they came into our possession. They belong to Spain, as the whole world should and shall one day. But there are marauding pirates on the seas; and there is one nation which is particularly offensive to us. They have bold seamen, adventurers without grace, crude men who raid and pillage our coastal towns and ravish our women.”

“It is not only one nation who is guilty of these practices,” I said. “I speak from personal experience.”

“You will learn to curb your tongue while you are here. It is not seemly for women to use that organ so constantly. They should be gentle and gracious in the presence of their masters.”

“I have yet to learn that you are my master.”

“You have yet much to learn and the first lesson will be just that. You are here to obey me and that you will do. But silence, or you will rob me of my patience and you shall not know why but only that you must do as bidden.”

That did silence me.

“Let us to the point,” he said. “Five years ago I came here. I was betrothed to a lady of a noble family. Isabella was carefully nurtured and when I left Madrid she was a child of thirteen, too young for marriage, but we were betrothed. She would come out to me when she was fifteen. There were therefore two years to wait. Those two years passed and she was fifteen. She and I were married in Madrid by proxy. The King himself attended the ceremony. Then she set out on the journey from Spain. We prepared to receive her. Our true wedding would take place in the Cathedral of La Laguna within two days of her arrival. We were ready to receive her. The journey was long, for the ship had been becalmed for a week. You will know what that can mean. I waited eagerly and while I was waiting a message was brought to me that the Guanches were rising in another of our islands. It was imperative for me to leave La Laguna to sail across to the troubled island. I was there for three weeks; and in the meantime Isabella arrived. I was not there to greet her, but my household was in readiness. My young bride was received with honors; she was a bewildered child of fifteen, delicately nurtured, ignorant of life. I knew that it would be my task to teach her gradually and with care. But that did not happen. It was two nights after Isabella and her duenna arrived with their retinue that the pirates came. I was not there to defend her—my poor ravished Isabella—humiliated, degraded, terrified.”

I shivered. “Poor child,” I murmured.

“Poor child indeed, and you have not realized all. The effect on her has been terrible.”

There was silence—a great moth fluttered up suddenly from the curtains and flew to the candlelight; it flew madly around, singeing its wings until it fell. We both watched it.

“She had to be nursed back to health,” he said. “But that was something beyond our powers.”

“She died?” I asked.

He looked beyond me. “Perhaps it would have been better so.”

We were silent for a second or so. I was thinking of the leering faces of men during the calm; and I saw the poor little girl of fifteen in their power.