“Yes, I am Crisostomo!” replied the young man, in a grave voice. “An enemy, a man who has good reason to hate me, Elias, has helped me out of the prison into which my friends had thrown me.”
Silence followed these words. Maria Clara bowed her head and allowed both her hands to drop at her side.
Ibarra continued:
“Beside the dead body of my mother, I swore to make you happy, whatever might be my destiny. You can break your oath; she was not your mother. But I, who am her son, I hold her memory sacred, and, running great risk, I have come here to fulfill my oath. Fortune permits me to speak with you personally. Maria, we shall not see each other again. You are young and perhaps some day your conscience may accuse you.... I come to tell you, before leaving, that I forgive you. Now, may you be happy, and good-bye!”
Ibarra tried to leave, but the maiden stopped him.
“Crisostomo!” she said. “God has sent you to save me from desperation.... Hear me and judge me!”
Ibarra wished to withdraw gently from her.
“I have not come,” said he, “to call you to account.... I have come to give you peace.”
“I do not want the peace which you give me. I will give myself peace. You despise me, and your contempt will make my life bitter till death.”
Ibarra saw the poor girl’s desperation, and asked her what she desired.