The old woman opened the door and led her in. She sat down in the corner, gazing silently into the fire and wondering why the good Lord in pity did not let her die; and big tears ran down her pale cheeks.
The old woman baked a fresh tortilla and gave it to her with a cup of milk.
"Eat, child," she said gently, "you are hungry," and she laid her hand on the bowed head, saying again: "There! there! eat, child! and sleep away the sorrow of youth which is fleeting as the dew of morning."
Then she turned away and commenced spinning and singing in a low, monotonous tone, which was strangely soothing, while Zaletta ate her supper, and soon the sad, weary maiden fell asleep by the warm, pleasant fireside.
For some time the old woman went on spinning and singing, till another knock came at the door, and again she said: "Who knocks at my door so late in the night?" "'Tis I, mother," replied a thick, rough voice. She opened the door to a most curious looking dwarf. He was round shouldered and thick set, with heavy, black hair covering his forehead, and shaggy brows meeting over his eyes.
"How fared thee, to-day, son?"
"I haven't struck the lode yet, mother," said the dwarf, cheerfully, "but I am sure the mine is rich. See what I have picked up among the loose rocks!"
He handed her a small nugget of gold, almost pure, and turned to the corner to put down his pick and shovel. "But who have we here? A young girl, and very pretty," he added, looking admiringly upon the sleeping maiden.
"Only a poor friendless child, who came to the door a little while ago, weeping and asking shelter," answered the woman.