Victorina, according to her custom, was going to her mother's side, when the doctor called out to her:
"Here, take hold of the end of my stick or you will slip. Your mamma will have enough to do to keep herself from falling. And God save us from a trip," he added, laughing loudly at his jest.
The voices and footsteps receded in the distance, and Segundo and Nieves continued on their way in silence. The precipitous character of the path along which they walked inspired Nieves with something like fear. It was a little path cut on the slope of the pine wood, on the very edge of the precipice, almost overhanging the river. Although Segundo gave Nieves the least dangerous side, that next the wood, leaving himself scarcely a foothold, so that he was obliged to place one foot horizontally before the other, in walking, this did not set her fears at rest or make the adventure seem any the less dangerous to her. Her terror was increased a hundredfold when she saw that they were alone.
"Are they not coming?" she asked anxiously.
"We will overtake them in less than ten minutes. They are going by the other road," answered Segundo, without adding a single word of endearment, or even pressing the arm which trembled with terror within his.
"Let us go on, then," said Nieves, in tones of urgent entreaty. "I am anxious to be home."
"Why?" asked the poet, suddenly standing still.
"I am tired—out of breath——"
"Well, you shall rest and take a drink of water if you desire it."
And with rash hardihood Segundo, without waiting for an answer, drew Nieves down the slope and, skirting the rock, stopped on a narrow ledge which projected over the river. By the fading sunset light they discried a crystal thread of water trickling down the black front of the rock.