"Threats to me!" the gaucho shouted, pale with rage, and drawing his knife.
Don Torribio clutched the fellow's wrist with his gloved hand, and twisted it so rudely, that he let the weapon fall with a cry of pain.
"On your knees, and ask pardon," the gentleman said, as he twisted Panchito to the ground.
"No; kill me sooner."
"Begone, villain; you are only a brute beast."
The gaucho rose tottering, his eyes were filled with blood, his lips were livid, and his whole body trembled. He picked up his knife, and approached Don Torribio, who waited for him with folded arms.
"Well, yes," he said; "I am a brute beast, but I love you, after all. Forgive me or kill me, but do not send me away."
"Begone!"
"Is that your last word?"
"Yes."