"Hardly. I have always esteemed Don Rudesindo," stammered the man of property.
"Eh? What? What do you say?" cried Don Feliciano in a tone of triumph. "That you have always esteemed Don Rudesindo? Eh, my dear fellow? You said so?"
"Yes, señor."
"Tell me, Don Rudesindo" (taking a few steps toward the cider manufacturer), "do you wish to kill Don Pedro, a neighbor who has hitherto been your friend, who has grown up with you, and who went with you to Don Martia's school?"
"I? Why should I?" said the merchant, opening his eyes wide in distress.
"Would you wish to wound him?"
"No, nor do him the least harm. I have always considered him a real friend."
"How is this, eh? A real friend, eh? Then, in my humble opinion, I think you ought both to embrace each other."
Hardly had Don Feliciano uttered these words than Miranda and Don Rudesindo, by a simultaneous impulse, rushed into each other's arms, and embraced with such effusion that the bones in their bodies were all but broken.
Don Feliciano at the same time bared his bald, retreating forehead, and, waving his hat wildly for some minutes, he shouted: