"Stay, Roque, stay!" eagerly cried Theodora; "thou surely dost not mean to leave me thus:—What alarms thee? Is it my dejected and forlorn appearance? Alas! it may well awaken thy surprise; for deep and bitter anguish has left its sad traces on my features."
Roque then approached, but not without casting a look around, as if fearful of being observed.
"What ails thee, Roque?" demanded Theodora surprised; "thou tremblest,—wherefore? What mystery is here?"
"El cielo, San Pedro y San Pablo me valgan!" ejaculated Roque, again crossing himself.
"Oh!" cried Theodora, clasping her hand in eager supplication—"do not harrow up my feelings with this suspense:—Speak!—"
"Good heavens! my lady, how came you here?"
"Alas!" answered Theodora, "the tale of my sufferings is as tedious in length as it has been deep in sorrow; rather inform me of matters far more interesting to my heart: tell me," she then proceeded, with vehement earnestness, "tell me the circumstances of that horrid event which has doomed me for ever to despair."
"That horrid event!" re-echoed Roque, with a look of marvellous stupidity.
"Ah! Roque, it was a fearful deed, and not in vain did my heart warn me with ominous forebodings."
"Yes, gentle lady," said Roque, in a tone of compunction, "it was a fearful deed, I confess."