"To your health, señores," said the capataz, after filling the pewter cups to the brim. "The sun is confoundedly hot, and travellers will find this refreshing."
"Thanks," said Pedrito, who had emptied his glass.
"Come, what have you to tell me? Speak freely; unless," Blas added, "my mother is in your way. If so, the worthy woman would go into the next room."
"No," Pedro said, eagerly; "no! The señora, on the contrary, must remain, for what we have to say everybody may hear, and especially your mother; we have come here on the subject of our sister."
"I do not wish to offend you, Don Pedro," the capataz interrupted him, "but you did wrong in keeping the young lady with you, for she cannot share all the perils of your diabolical life, can she, mother?"
The old lady gave a nod of assent, and the brothers exchanged a hopeful glance.
"You can do what you please, of course," Don Blas continued; "everybody is at liberty to arrange his life as he pleases, provided that it be honestly. But now to business."
"Your remark, Don Blas," Pedrito said, "overwhelms us with joy. You are a man of good counsel and good heart."
And without farther delay, he told Mercedes' singular story. Toward its close Doña Salazar left the room, unnoticed by her son or the bomberos.
"You are a worthy man, Don Pedro," Don Blas exclaimed. "Yes, deuce take me if you are not, though the bomberos generally are considered sorry fellows. You have judged me rightly, and I thank you for thinking of me."