"No," the young lady continued, "the plan is impracticable, and it would be madness to dwell on it. If you have reached us by a miracle, it is impossible for you to convey us through the Indian camp and pass the sentries unseen. It would be precipitating our death instead of checking it."
"It is well, señorita," Don Melchior said, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "Since you refuse to attempt to fly, I shall come back to my first resolution."
"What is it?"
"To die with you."
The young lady took a step forward, and turned to Doña Emilia.
"Do you hear, mother?" she exclaimed in agony. "Do you hear what Don Melchior says? I will not have him die. Order him to go away."
"Why should I order him?" Doña Emilia coldly replied. "Don Melchior has ever been devoted to us. He has come to die with us, and neither you nor I have the right to prevent him."
"I must, I tell you, I must."
"And why so, my child?"
"Why?" she repeated, wild with grief. "Because, mother, I love him, and will not have him die!"