For a long time, Don Guzman remained crouching on the Pampas, holding in his arms the lifeless body of his wife, whom he tried in vain to resuscitate. He lay there, absorbed in doubts, and trembling; seeing nothing; hearing nothing; lamenting the death of his wife; deprived of his child.
He was suddenly roused by a heavy stroke on his shoulder. He raised his head. A man was standing before him, with a smile on his lips.
"Don Guzman de Ribera," said he, with a mocking salutation, "you are my prisoner."
It was Don Bernardo Pedrosa, with a numerous escort of soldiers.
[CHAPTER XIX.]
THE END OF THE STORY.
Here Don Estevan paused in his recital.
"All this is frightful!" exclaimed Don Fernando, in accents of mingled anger and pity.