“Is there much for you to do in there?”
“Oh yes,” I answered, “getting ready for tomorrow. But must you go?”
She shrugged her shoulders, and leaned her head on one side, as if to say, “As you wish.”
“I owe you an explanation,” said I, going nearer to her. “Will you hear me?”
“Didn’t I tell you that there are things which I do not want to hear?” she replied, rattling the box of cartridges.
“But I thought that I …”
“It’s surely that you are going to speak of … what you thought.”
“What?”
“That I ought to listen to you; but I ought not this time.”
“How bad an opinion you must have had of me lately!”
She did not reply, and busied herself reading the lettering on the box.
“I’ll say nothing, then. But tell me, what did you think?”
“Why should I tell you now?”
“Won’t you allow me to apologize to you?”
“What I should like to know is why you did that; yet I dread to know it, because I can’t imagine what motive you had, and I have always thought that you must have had one which I ought not to know. But, as it seems that you are happy again, why, I am happy too.”
“I don’t deserve that you should be so good to me.”
“Perhaps I am the one who do not deserve …”
“I treated you unfairly, and if you will allow it, I will go down on my knees to ask your pardon.”
Her eyes, which had been veiled for a few moments, now shone with all their beauty, and she exclaimed: “Good heavens! no. I have forgotten it all; do you hear? All.”
“But on one condition,” she added, after a short pause.
“Whatever you wish.”
“If ever I say or do anything that displeases you, you are to tell me of it; and I will not say or do it again. That’s very easy, isn’t it?”
“And I, can’t I ask the same thing of you?”
“No, because I am not able to give you advice, nor always to know if what I think is best; besides, you know what I am going to say to you before I say it.”
“Is that true? Then you must be sure that I love you with all my heart,” said I, in a low voice, and strongly moved.
“Yes, yes,” she replied, softly, and almost touching my lips with her hand to tell me I must be silent took a few steps towards the parlor.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Don’t you hear Juan calling me, and crying because he can’t find me?”
“Hesitating for a moment, there was in her smile such sweetness and amorous languor that after she was gone I could still see her face.
XX
The following morning at daybreak I took the mountain road, accompanied by Juan Ángel, who was loaded down with presents sent by my mother to Luisa and the girls. Mayo followed us; his faithfulness was too much for his prudence, for he had received many injuries in expeditions of this sort, and was far too old to go upon them.
Once across the bridge, we met José and his nephew Braulio, who were coming to find me. The former at once broached to me his plan for the hunt, which was to try for a shot at a famous jaguar of the neighborhood that had killed some of his lambs. He had followed the creature’s trail, and had discovered one of his lairs at the headwaters of the river, more than half a league above his cabin.
Juan Ángel was in a cold sweat on hearing these details, and putting down on the fallen leaves the hamper which he was carrying, looked at us with staring eyes as if he were hearing of a plan to commit a murder.
José kept on talking of his scheme of attack: “You may cut off my ears if he gets away. Now we’ll see if that boastful Lucas is only the braggart they say. Tiburcio I’ll answer for. Have you got large bullets?”
“Yes,” I replied, “and my long rifle.”
“This will be a great day for Braulio. He wants very much to see you shoot, for I have told him that you and I consider shots very poor that do not hit a bear square between the eyes.”
He laughed boisterously, clapping his nephew on the shoulder.
“Well, let’s be off,” he continued; “but let the boy carry this garden-stuff to the Señora, and I’ll go back.” He caught up Juan Ángel’s hamper, saying, “Are these sweetmeats that María is sending for her cousin?”
“That’s something my mother is sending Luisa.”
“But what can be the matter with the girl? I saw her go by yesterday looking out of sorts. She was as white as a Castile rosebud.”
“She’s well again.”
“Here, you young nigger, what are you doing here?” said José to Juan Ángel. “Be off with that bag, and come back quickly, for it won’t be safe for you to pass by here alone after a while. Not a word of this down at the house.”
“Mind you come back!” I shouted to him, after he had crossed the bridge. He disappeared in the reeds like a frightened partridge.
Braulio was of about my age. Two months before he had come from Antioquia to live with his uncle, and was already madly in love with his cousin, Tránsito. The nephew’s face had all of that nobility which made that of the older man so interesting; but the most striking thing in it was a beautiful mouth, not bearded as yet, whose feminine smile was in strong contrast with the manly energy expressed in the other features. Of a gentle and yielding nature, he was an indefatigable worker, a real treasure for José, and just the husband for Tránsito.
Luisa and the girls came out to welcome me at the door of the cabin, smiling and affectionate as ever. Frequent sight of me in the past few months had made the
