"Should I not cry for you as you are my daughter? I am your father! Don't you know it, don't you know it?"
"Yes, I know it. You are my father, and I am your daughter. I am sleepy—let me sleep upon your breast."
And her little fair head sank in sleep. The count bent his own to imprint a kiss upon her brow, and his lips encountered the fire of fever.
The little creature enjoyed a few minutes lethargic sleep. Occasional cold shivers ran through her delicate little body. At last she awoke with a cry.
"Luis, they are taking me away! Look at them, look at them! There they are!" Her eyes were full of wild terror.
"No, daughter, no, they are trees on the road waving their branches towards us."
"Don't you see Don Pedro threatening me? Don't you hear what he is saying?"
"Calm yourself, my soul, it is the roaring of the wind."
"You are right. They are gone now. Look how the moon is shining! Look at the beautiful fields and the quantities of flowers! A palace of crystal! There is a child playing with a white cat. How lovely! It is prettier than Rose. Let me play with her, Luis."
"You shall play as much as you like, and I will buy you a white cat and a white dove that will eat out of your hand."