"It is true, child," said Don José gravely; "I am very grateful. Now I see that you are the daughter of Señor Candiola."
"Yes, sir. Yesterday, when I was attending you, I recognized in you the man who ill-treated my father some time ago."
"Yes, my daughter, it was a sudden thing—a hasty—I can't help it. I have very quick blood. And you took care of me? That is the way good Christians do, returning good for evil, paying back injuries with benefits, and to do good to them that hate us is what God commands."
"Señor," exclaimed Mariquilla, dissolved in tears. "I forgive my enemies. Do you also forgive yours? Why do they not free my father? He has not done anything."
"This thing that you ask is a little difficult. The treachery of Señor Candiola is unpardonable. The troops are furious."
"It is all a mistake. If you would intercede! You must be one of the commanders."
"I!" said Montoria, "that is a business which does not rest on me. But calm yourself, young woman. You seem to be a good girl; truly, I remember the attention with which you took care of me, and such goodness touches my soul. I did you a great wrong, and from the same person whom I injured I received a great good, perhaps life itself. In such ways God teaches us to be humble and charitable, porr—I was just going to let it go, this cursed tongue of mine!"
"Señor, how good you are!" cried the girl; "and I thought you were very bad. You will help me to save my father. He does not lay up the outrage he received."
"Listen," said Montoria, taking her by the arm. "Not long ago I asked pardon of Señor Don Jeronimo for all that; and far from being reconciled with me, he insulted me in the most gross manner. He and I do not pull together, child. If you tell me that you forgive me that matter of the blows, my conscience will be free of a great weight."