The explanation flattered Rogelio’s vanity, assuring him once more that he was loved, and not as a child is loved, but as a man is loved by a woman; in which consisted the whole charm of this singular intercourse, that not even to himself did he venture to call amorous. These words, that were rendered sweeter to him by the tremulous and regretful tones in which they were uttered, impelled Rogelio to put his arm around her head, and, drawing it toward him, he tenderly pressed it to his breast. Esclavita’s breath came and went so tumultuously that Rogelio said to her at last, affectionately:
“There, I will release you. I don’t want to hurt you or distress you.”
“Hurt me, no,” murmured the girl; “hurt me, no.”
Rogelio did not again attempt to caress her. It was not necessary that he should impose any restraint upon himself in order to treat Esclavita with respect here, almost at his mother’s bedside, or to refrain from these manifestations of affection, that were fraternal rather than lover-like; of whose real meaning and significance he himself was ignorant. He only permitted himself to pass his hand now and again over her loosely-flowing and luxuriant auburn hair. Esclavita’s hair looked softer than it really was, but it was certainly pleasant to pass his hand over the warm, wavy tresses.
“Don’t you want to sleep a little?” he said. “You have been sitting up for two nights, and you must be worn out. If mamma moves I will waken you. I will not sleep in any case.”
Esclavita refused. To sit up three nights! What was that? She had spent forty nights without taking off her clothes, when nursing the priest during his last illness, without other rest than such as was afforded her by leaning back in an old arm-chair and dozing for five minutes or so at a time. Do without rest for three nights! She could do without rest for three months if it were necessary.
“Well, if you don’t want to sleep, amuse me, then. Tell me something,” he said.
“Ah, Señorito, a good person you ask to tell you something! One who knows nothing herself.”
“Of course you know something, silly girl. Tell me something about our native place. I am dying to hear about it. When I left there I was only a child. I can scarcely remember it.”
Hearing him speak of her native land, Esclavita’s eyes glowed in the darkness like the eyes of a cat.