“I cry inwardly, not with my eyes. I cannot shed a tear. I was the same way once before, when my father died,” responded the girl quietly, without either of them taking notice of the word father, which, perhaps, for the first time in her life, Esclavita uttered without mystery or circumlocution.
“Child, you seem to me to be ill. Ah! you have fever. Promise me that you will go to-morrow to see Sanchez del Abrojo.”
“No, it isn’t sickness. I was never better in my life. It is a warning.”
“Sura, be silent, for Heaven’s sake! You are talking wildly——”
He bent toward the girl and kissed her cold cheek; she made no resistance. She seemed to be more resigned, and it was in a tone that was natural and almost confidential that she uttered the following extravagances:
“Rogelio, there are certain things that the dead warn the living about; don’t doubt it. Three days before my father’s death I saw a large black bird at the foot of my bed. Yesterday I saw the same bird again. He flew so fast that I couldn’t see where he disappeared to, but I saw him as surely as that we are here now. I shall never go home again, never. Time will show, and then you will see that what I tell you is true and you will say, ‘Esclavita was right.’ If I was as sure of having a million ounces I should be considering now where to hide them so that they should not be stolen from me. Last night——”
She lowered her voice and whispered to Rogelio:
“A dog in the next house howled till morning, and that means that some one is going to die.”
“Heavens! Suriña,” for the second time exclaimed Rogelio, now superstitiously affected by this strange conversation, “you are crazy! Don’t you know, Suriña, that scores of people die or are at the point of death every night in Madrid? Just imagine; if the dogs have to announce all those deaths they have enough to do. There would be announcements enough to fill an extra sheet of La Correspondencia. The fact is, Sura, that you feel badly because we are going away and you remain behind. I, too, have been troubled for some time past about the trip. I have had some frightful moments. Afterward I reflected—and—I think it is better to be resigned to things as they are, for if we rebel it will only make matters worse. In three months, Suriña—in ninety days (and perhaps even less) you will have me here again. My first visit shall be to Doña Sura. Come, don’t look like that. I love you dearly, believe it. We shall be able in time to win mamma over. You haven’t yet told me to-day that you care for me. Come!”
With the gesture of a child asking for a caress he approached his cheek to Esclavita’s lips, and the latter, without protest, as if she were performing an accustomed act, pressed her lips to it. Like her palms, they were hot and dry, and it seemed to Rogelio as if they burned his flesh, causing him a sensation that was painful rather than pleasant. Only, caresses were a resource to render this last painful interview a little less intolerable, and the student, in default of arguments by which to console the poor deserted girl, had recourse to caresses, without being influenced by a motive less pure or noble....