A few days later, Don Diego returned home. He had ridden as hard as he could without crippling his horse and made it in five and a half days. After a warm greeting from his father and the obligatory reports of what he had accomplished in Monterey, the young caballero anxiously sought out Felipe to make sure the pueblo was safe and to find out whatever news there was.

The young man was pleased to see him, but he knew the news he bore would hurt his friend and mentor. He had to wait to tell it until they were alone, but when he could finally draw Diego away from his father, he quickly motioned what he knew.

"What?" Diego exclaimed in surprise and alarm when the youth motioned that the new man in town had proposed to Señorita Victoria. "You mean Ramon Palos?"

Urgently the young man nodded.

"What was her answer?"

With a shrug, Felipe signaled what translated roughly as "She would think about it." He saw Diego's worried expression and quickly added something like, "They say she is considering it."

"Are you sure?" Diego asked, crestfallen. When the young man nodded again, he sighed dejectedly. "What about Zorro?"

Felipe could only shrug.

His expression creased by worry, Diego laid a hand on Felipe's shoulder and thanked him gravely for the news. A moment later, he said, "I want to ride in tonight to talk to Victoria. Have Toronado saddled by sundown."

For the rest of the afternoon the young don tried to get some sleep, vainly hoping to catch up a little after his hard ride home, but it eluded him. His mind was working overtime, trying to analyze the suddenly critical situation with Victoria. He was Zorro. He was the man she loved. He was the man whose marriage proposal she had accepted. He was the man who loved her desperately. Wasn't that good enough?

He knew the answer to that question before he even asked it. He had tormented himself for years with such thoughts, worries, and many speculations, and now it seemed his worst nightmare was coming true. He was losing Victoria, and he knew why. In fact, he had feared it all along. She had lost patience with waiting.

As Zorro, he had made a promise to himself and to the people of the pueblo de Los Angeles to protect them from injustice and tyranny, to fight for freedom and truth. He had sworn that his self-imposed mission as Zorro would not end until he had achieved his goals... or he died in the attempt. It was something he had to do, and only he could do it. Zorro was holding back the tide of tyranny and oppression. Zorro was the reason freedom was possible.

That was also the very reason he was now losing Victoria, and he knew it. He had fought on the side of justice for years now, and for years he had forced himself and Victoria Escalante to keep their relationship on hold. Almost from the start he had professed- in so many words, at least, and more by his actions- to love her, and she returned his feelings. Their love grew until she had accepted his marriage proposal... but neither of them pretended that it was as easy as that.

At any time he could be killed by the alcalde or his men. They both knew that. They knew the risks he took every time he had to do battle. Repeatedly he warned her of the danger to her as well because of her well-known love for him, but she had accepted that as the price to pay, to wait for him. Their love was so strong. It seemed to transcend all that stood in their way, despite the fact he could rarely share more than a few seconds at a time with her, and they had really been alone together only once.

Victoria had promised to wait for him. She had accepted his marriage proposal. Yet now she was at least contemplating another man's proposal. Diego could hardly blame her. The strain of keeping his distance to her, of forcing their relationship from his mind, of the complications just loving her caused, tore at him so badly at times that he wondered if he could go on. If it hurt him so, it hurt Victoria every bit as badly. In fact, only the fact that he did not dwell on the pain of their wait kept him in the saddle as Zorro. He could not allow himself to think of himself, or even of Victoria. He had to concentrate on being Zorro.

He knew somewhat of her hopes and dreams, her desires for their life together, and he knew too well his own dreams and passions. The pain of their situation tortured him daily, hourly, every waking moment, and often tormented his dreams. But what could he do? He could not sacrifice Zorro. The people depended on him, and he had made a promise to protect them. The good of the many outweighed the good of the one, or in this case, two. He thought they had both accepted that.

To Victoria the only promise he could make was to proclaim his love for her when at last he was finished with Zorro. He could not say when that day would come, or even if it would. He could promise only that if he lived long enough to see justice and freedom for their people, he would come for her and claim her as his. These things he had promised...

What were those promises, though, when they both knew the risks? They were nothing more than wishful thinking or warm, pleasant daydreams. They were nothing compared to the tangible things Ramon was undoubtedly offering Victoria and that she was undoubtedly considering. Promises were nothing next to reality.

No, Diego could hardly blame her, but the sudden aching emptiness in his heart at the thought of losing her was worse torture than the pain of waiting ever was. He could hardly wait for that evening, when he could ride in after dark to talk to her. He knew it would be his last chance to keep her as his.