THE CONSEQUENCES OP A LOVE SONG.
During the conversation between the foster brothers, certain events we must describe to the reader occurred in the cuarto to which Curumilla and Don Cornelio had retired.
On entering the room, Curumilla, instead of lying down on the cuadro intended for him, laid his zarapé on the tiled flooring, stretched himself out upon it, and immediately closed his eyes. Don Cornelio, on the contrary, after hanging the lamp to a nail in the wall, trimmed up the smoking wick with the point of his knife, sat down on the side of the bed, with his legs hanging down, and then began in a sonorous voice the romance of King Rodrigo.
At this slightly unseasonable music Curumilla half opened one eye, though without protesting in any other way against this unwonted disturbance of his rest. Don Cornelio may or may not have noticed the Indian's silent protest; but in either case he took no heed of it, but went on singing, raising his voice to the highest compass of which it was capable.
"Wah!" the chief said, raising his bead.
"I was certain," Don Cornelio remarked with a friendly smile, "that the music would please you."
And he redoubled his flourishes.
The Araucanian rose, went up to the singer, and touched him gently on the shoulder.
"We must sleep," he said in his guttural voice, and with an ill-tempered grimace.
"Bah, chief! Music makes a man forget sleep. Just listen.