Don Fernando shrugged his shoulders, and alighted in his turn.
"You are mad, Dios me libre," (God forgive me), said he. "Since you overheard our conversation so clearly, you must know that I am a foreigner, and anything that occurs in this country can be but of slight importance to me."
"¿Quién sabe?" (Who can tell?) replied Don Estevan, sententiously, throwing himself on the floor of the rancho with great content.
Don Fernando followed his example, his curiosity beginning to get the better of him.
When the two men were comfortably stretched opposite each other, Don Estevan turned his face to the Mexican:
"I am going to talk of Doña Hermosa," said he of a sudden.
Surprised by these words, the Mexican blushed deeply. He tried in vain to conceal his emotion.
"Ah!" said he in a stifled voice, "Doña Hermosa! You mean the daughter of Don Luna?"
"The same. In a word, the very girl you saved a few days ago."
"Why recur to that event? Everyone else in my place would have done the same."