"Why so?"
"It is possible that I may return to Carmen within a week."
"Then you have only paid a passing visit here?"
"Not exactly. I had intended to remain here some months, but, as you said just now, who knows what the morrow will bring forth?"
The two speakers, like practised duellists, before crossing weapons and dealing a decisive blow, were feeling each other's strength by quickly parried feints.
"May I be allowed to pay my respects to Doña Concha?" Don Torribio asked.
"She will soon be here. Just imagine, my dear neighbour, that through a concourse of extraordinary circumstances we have just taken charge of a girl of rare beauty, who has been two years a slave of the Indians, and whom her brothers brought to me scarce an hour ago, after having miraculously saved her from the hands of the pagans."
"Ah!" Torribio said, in a choking voice.
"Yes," Don Valentine continued, without noticing the young man's emotion; "her name is Mercedes, I believe; she appears very gentle; you know my daughter, she is wild about her already, and at this moment she is taking off her Indian clothes, and clothing her in a decent fashion."
"Very good; but are you sure that this woman is what she seems to be? The Indians are villains, as you are aware, and this—"