"Treat you as such."
"That is to say—"
"You will run a risk, father, of being shot; and that is worth thinking about, I suppose."
"You are mistaken, my friend; between duty and cowardice no hesitation is possible. I will die, if it be necessary—but with the conviction that I have fulfilled to the close the sacred mission I have undertaken. Then you grant my request?"
"I do so, father, and thank you for having made it."
"Blessings on your kindness, my son; and now the Lord be with you. I shall retire."
In spite of much pressing, the worthy father insisted on going away, and was conducted to the door of the apartment by the two gentlemen, in spite of his efforts to escape a mark of honour of which he considered himself unworthy. When the door closed after him, and the three persons were really alone, Doña Esperanza, after a long look at her son, gently drew him towards her, and obliging him to sit down on an equipal, she lovingly parted off his forehead his clustering locks, and said in a sweet, harmonious voice, in which all the jealous tenderness of a mother was revealed—
"I find you sad, Diego; your face is pale, your features are worn, and your eyes sparkle with a gloomy fire. What has happened to you during your absence?"
"Nothing extraordinary, mother," he answered, with an embarrassment he tried in vain to conceal. "As usual, I have hunted a great deal, travelled a long distance, and consequently, endured great fatigue; hence, doubtless, comes the pallor you notice upon my face."
The old lady shook her head with an incredulous air.