“Yes.”
“But, papa, our father is called Ramón Carrasco.”
“It is also true,” said Ramón, smiling.
“We,” said Pedro, rather heavily, “are not the children of the Living Quetzalcoatl, papa. We are Carrasco y de Lara.”
“Good names both,” said Ramón.
“Never,” said the young Cyprian, his eyes flashing, “never can we love you, papa. You are our enemy. You killed our mother.”
“No, no!” said Ramón. “That you must not say. Your mother sought her own death.”
“Mama loved you much, much, much!” cried Cyprian, the tears rising to his eyes. “Always she loved you and prayed for you—” He began to cry.
“And I, my son?” said Ramón.
“You hated her and killed her! Oh, mama! Mama! Oh, mama! I want my mother!” he wept.