"You understand," she said, with great agitation, "that I cannot be an unmoved witness of the death of the man to whom I owe my life. This man, whom you hate, on whom you wish to revenge yourself, is my father; he has always been kind to me. Be merciful, Don Pablo!"
"Speak, Ellen; whatever you may ask I will swear to do."
Ellen fixed on him a glance of strange meaning.
"Is it true? Can I really trust to your word?" she said, with marked hesitation.
"Order, and I will obey."
"This evening, when we reach the spot where we are to bivouac, when your comrades are asleep—"
"Well?" he said, seeing that she stopped.
"Let me fly, Don Pablo, I implore you."
"Oh, my poor child," he exclaimed; "let you fly! But what will become of you alone, and lost in this desert?"
"Heaven will guard me."