“A hundred against fifty for the bûlik!” cried some one passing.
“Loan us four pesos—three—two,” begged Bruno. José again shook his head.
“Sh! the money isn’t mine. Don Crisóstomo gave it to me for those who are willing to serve him. But I see you are not like your father; he was courageous. The man who is not must not expect to divert himself.” And he moved away.
“See!” said Bruno, “he’s talking with Pedro; he’s giving him a lot of money!” And in truth José was counting silver pieces into the palm of Sisa’s husband.
Társilo was moody and thoughtful; with his shirt sleeve he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Brother,” said Bruno, “I’m going, if you don’t; our father must be avenged!”
“Wait,” said Társilo, gazing into his eyes—they were both pale—“I’m going with you. You are right: our father must be avenged!” But he did not move, and again wiped his brow.
“What are you waiting for?” demanded Bruno impatiently.
“Don’t you think—our poor sister——”
“Bah! Isn’t Don Crisóstomo the chief, and haven’t we seen him with the governor-general? What risk do we run?”