The Mark of Zorro by JOHNSTON MCCULLEY

he said, “I have not offended beyond forgiveness, I hope.”
    â€œGo, señor , else I make an outcry!”
    â€œAnd get me executed?”
    â€œYou are but a thief of the highroad!”
    â€œYet I love life as any other man.”
    â€œI shall call out, señor! There is a reward offered for your capture.”
    â€œSuch pretty hands would not handle blood money.”
    â€œGo!”
    â€œAh, señorita , you are cruel! A sight of you sends the blood pounding through a man’s veins. A man would fight a horde at the bidding of your sweet lips.”
    â€œSeñor!”
    â€œA man would die in your defense, señorita . Such grace, such fresh beauty!”
    â€œFor the last time, señor! I shall make an outcry—and your fate be on your own head!”
    â€œYour hand again—and I go!”
    â€œIt may not be!”
    â€œThen here I sit until they come and take me. No doubt I shall not have to wait long. That big Sergeant Gonzales is on the trail, I understand, and may have discovered track of me. He will have soldiers with him—”
    â€œ Señor , for the love of the saints—”
    â€œYour hand!”
    She turned her back and gave it, and once more he pressed his lips to the palm. And then she felt herself being turned slowly, and her eyes looked deep into his. A thrill seemed to run through her. She realized that he retained her hand, and she pulled it away. And then she turned and ran quickly across the patio and into the house.
    With her heart pounding at her ribs, she stood behind the curtains at a window and watched. Señor Zorro walked slowly to the fountain, and stooped to drink. Then he put his sombrero on, looked once at the house, and stalked away. She heard the galloping hoofs of a horse die in the distance.
    â€œA thief—yet a man!” she breathed. “If Don Diego had only half as much dash and courage!”

CHAPTER 8
    DON CARLOS PLAYS A GAME
    She turned away from the window, thankful that none of the household had seen Señor Zorro or knew of his visit. The remainder of the day she spent on the veranda, half the time working on some lace she was making, and the other half gazing down the dusty trail that ran toward the highway.
    And then came evening, and down by the natives’ adobe huts big fires were lighted, and the natives gathered around them to cook and eat and speak of the events of the day. Inside the house the evening meal had been prepared, and the family was about to sit at table when some one knocked upon the door.
    An Indian ran to open it, and Señor Zorro strode into the room. His sombrero came off, he bowed, and then he raised his head and looked at the speechless Doña Catalina and the half-terrified Don Carlos.
    â€œI trust you will pardon this intrusion,” he said. “I am the man known as Señor Zorro. But do not be frightened, for I have not come to rob.”
    Don Carlos got slowly upon his feet, while Señorita Lolita gasped at this display of the man’s courage, and feared he would mention the visit of the afternoon, of which she had refrained from telling her mother.
    â€œScoundrel!” Don Carlos roared. “You dare to enter an honest house?”
    â€œI am no enemy of yours, Don Carlos!” Señor Zorro replied. “In fact, I have done some things that should appeal to a man who has been persecuted.”
    That was true, Don Carlos knew, but he was too wise to admit it and so speak treason. Heaven knew he was enough in the bad graces of the governor now without offending him more by treating with courtesy this man for whose carcass the governor had offered a reward.
    â€œWhat do you wish here?” he asked.
    â€œI crave your hospitality, señor . In other words, I would eat and drink. I am a caballero, hence make my claim in justice.”
    â€œWhatever good blood once flowed in your veins has been fouled by your actions!” Don Carlos said.