"It seems to me that you have grown rather thin since I saw you last, uncle."
"Yes!" replied Don Bernardo, pausing, and sitting astride of the wooden bars. "But you will see me much more so. There is a reason for it."
"Does your stomach trouble you?"
The caballero was for a moment motionless, with eyes fixed, and then said in a tone of deep melancholy:—
"I suffer in my mind."
And he took up his exercise with more violence than ever.
Never had Miguel heard from his uncle's lips any reference to his innermost feelings; in his eyes he had always been in this respect a man of iron. Thus when he heard that tender confession, it seemed to him as though he were in a dream.
And imagining that Enrique was the cause of his uncle's griefs, although the man had no reason to be grieved on account of his son, Miguel still pitied him sincerely.
"I see that Enrique, of whom I am so fond, is the cause of your troubles.... But you have two other sons, who must be the source of unalloyed satisfaction."
"No, Miguel, it is not Enrique.... Enrique has caused me some sorrow, ... but what I feel now has its source far deeper."