"Courage!" said I to him, in a whisper; "have you not on your heart the suchil flower?"
Calros raised his head, as if the remembrance of that had restored all his confidence. He seized his machete, and went to suspend it at Sacramenta's shoulder. I then understood the meaning of the prediction that I had heard some time before. Sacramenta danced with the machete and chamarra of two of her suitors. It was a singular sight to see a long, sharp, glittering blade dangling from the nude shoulder of the young girl, in such close proximity to her heaving bosom.
A sudden silence now fell upon the crowd, similar to what sometimes takes place at a bull-fight when the arena has received its first stains of blood. All at once a loud and imposing male voice near the orchestra exclaimed "Bomba!" The instruments ceased to sound, and the song died away. The voice was that of Calros's rival, who now chanted a couplet expressive of his confidence in his mistress's tenderness, while the friends of the Jarocho repeated the last line in chorus. Calros then answered in a high key by saying that he would not have a divided heart, and that his rival was a traitor.
The Jarocho replied in another recitative, by inquiring if he had spirit sufficient to meet him in fair combat. Calros then, with a smile upon his face, expressed his willingness to meet this traitor, this vagabond, this false friend.
Whether Sacramenta was weary of the dance, or overcome by the general emotion which was manifested when this last couplet was chanted, I know not, but she stepped hastily from the estrade, and her companions followed her. Instructed by past experience not to wait for the commencement of the melee, as their instruments generally suffer in the fray, the musicians hurriedly retired. Some customary pieces of ceremony were still, however, to be gone through; the suitors must redeem the pledges given to the dancer. The customary fee for these is half a real each. The two rivals advanced, one after the other, and filled both hands of Sacramenta with silver coin. While she was receiving the forfeits, in the midst of murmurs of applause excited by the prodigality of the two Jarochos, and which she could not refuse without being guilty of rudeness, her two little outstretched hands trembled involuntarily, and her pale lips tried, but in vain, to smile. Calros fruitlessly sought a look of encouragement from her. Pale and mute, and evidently laboring under an emotion too powerful for concealment, she kept her eyes fixed upon the ground. The machete would decide the question; and the pleasures of the fête were going to be wound up by my host in spite of his sage resolutions, when an old woman, elbowing her way through the crowd, reminded him of the oath he was about to violate. She was the mother of his dead relative.
"It is a shame, ñor Don Calros," cried the beldame, "to take a new quarrel upon you when your cousin's death has not yet been avenged."
The Jarocho was evidently taken aback at this unseasonable interruption, and he made all the efforts he could to induce the old woman to retract what she had said, but to all his reasons she had one unvarying reply.
"Well, ña Josefita," said Calros at last, good-humoredly, "you are making a great work about nothing, and are mistrusting my good intention; for, if I fight this man, am I not keeping my hand in exercise?"
"And should you happen to be run through the body, who will then avenge my son?"
"You are right there," replied Calros, thrown off his guard by this argument; "but that's just the way: the women are always mixing themselves up in business that does not concern them. Any one may now take my place," he continued, with an ill-natured air, "if my adversary consent."