"Did he not come from the ball-room with thee?"
"N-o-o-o-o."
"Dost thou know where he has gone?"
"N-o-o-o, señor."
"Art thou afraid?"
"Ay! God—of—my—life!"
"Never mind," said the old gentleman. "Go to sleep. Thy uncle will protect thee, and this will not happen again."
He seated himself by the bedside. Prudencia's sobs ceased gradually, and she fell asleep. An hour later the door opened softly, and Reinaldo entered. In spite of the mescal in him, his knees shook as he saw the indulgent but stern arbiter of the Iturbi y Moncada destinies sitting in judgment at the bedside of his wife.
"Where have you been, sir?"
"To take a walk,—to see to—"