They babbled like children, crowding round Chiquito, extolling his beauty, his wisdom, the miracle of his timely utterance. Chiquito seemed to think, for his part, that he had done enough. He paid no attention to the blandishments of his ragged admirers, but turned himself upside down, always a sign of contempt with him, said "Caramba!" and would say nothing more.
A little procession was formed, the least ragged of the patriots leading the way, Rita and Manuela following. The others crowded together behind, exclaiming, wondering, pleased as children with this wonderful happening. Thus they crossed a ragged hill, threaded a grove of palms, and finally came upon an open space, roughly cleared, in the middle of which stood a tent, with several rude huts around it. The soldiers explained with eager gestures. Behold the tent of the illustrious General. Behold the dwelling of Don Rodrigo, of Don Uberto, of Don Carlos; behold, finally, Don Carlos himself, emerging from the General's tent. The gallant ragamuffins drew back, and became on the instant spectators at a play. A slender young man came out of the tent, evidently to inquire the meaning of the commotion. At what he saw he turned apparently to stone, and stood, cigarette in hand, staring at the vision before him. But for Rita there was no hesitation now. Running to her brother, she threw her arms around his neck with unaffected joy.
"Carlos!" she cried. "I have come to you. I had no one else to go to. They were taking me to the convent, and I would have died sooner. I have come to you, to live or die with you, for our country."
Manuela wept; the soldiers were moved to tears, and brushed their ragged sleeves across their eyes. But Carlos Montfort did not weep.
"Rita!" he said, in English, returning his sister's caress affectionately, but with little demonstration of joy. "What is the meaning of this? what induced you—how could you do such a thing as this? where do you come from? how did you find your way?" And he added to himself, "And what the mischief am I to do with you now you are here?"
Rita explained hastily; gave a dramatic sketch of her adventures, not forgetting the unfortunate peasants, who must, she said, be rescued that instant from their wretched plight; and wound up with a vivid description of the bell-ringing, the gathering of the patriot forces, and the magnificent behaviour of her beloved Chiquito.
"Good gracious! you have brought the parrot, too!" cried poor Carlos. "Rita! Rita! this is too much."
At this moment a new person appeared on the scene. A tall old man, stooping his head, came out from the tent, and greeted the wandering damsel with grave courtesy.
Perhaps the General had seen too much of life and of war to be surprised at anything; perhaps he was sorry for the embarrassment of his young lieutenant, and wished to make things easier for him; however it was, he apparently found it the most natural thing in the world for a young lady and her maid to be wandering in the wilderness in search of the Cuban army. The first thing, he said, was to make the señorita comfortable, as comfortable as their limited powers would allow. She would take his tent, of course; it was her own from that instant; but equally of course neither Rita nor Carlos would hear of this. A friendly dispute ensued; and it was finally decided that Rita and Manuela were to make themselves as comfortable as might be in Carlos's own tent, while he shared that of his commander. The General yielded only under protest to this arrangement; yet he did yield, seeing that resistance would distress both brother and sister. Since the señorita would not take his tent, he said, the next best thing was that she should accept his hospitality, such as he could offer her, within it; or rather, before it, since the evening was warm. His men were even now preparing the evening meal; when the señorita was refreshed and rested, he hoped she and Don Carlos would share it with him.
Rita withdrew into the little hut, in a glow of patriotism and enthusiasm. "Manuela," she cried, "did you ever see such nobleness, such lofty yet gracious courtesy? Ah! I knew he was a man to die for. How happy we are, to be here at last, after dreaming of it so long! I thrill; I burn with sacred fire—what is the matter, Manuela? you look the spirit of gloom. What has happened?"