The transformation was soon made; and, returning to the chapparal, we placed the wounded man upon the catre, with as much tenderness as if, instead of an enemy, he had been one of our own comrades.
He had by this time so far recovered as to be sensible of what was passing; but it was not until he had been carried within the tent, and his wound carefully dressed by the ex-hospital assistant, that I consented to an interview between him and his “querida Lola.”
Mistrusting the effect of any sudden excitement—even though caused by joy—I had entreated the girl to remain out of sight; and though suffering from a painful impatience to speak to her beloved Calros, she had obeyed me.
Being assured by the improvised surgeon that there was no real danger; that the wound was not likely to prove fatal; and that the syncope of the wounded man had been caused by weakness from loss of blood, I withdrew the restriction.
In an instant after, the beautiful Lola flew into the arms of her lover.
It was an affecting scene, and touched even my rude companions, who stood around the catre. To me it was not pleasant—I might almost say it was painful—to listen to that interchange of endearing epithets. I coveted the caresses that were being lavished upon the handsome Jarocho.
Soon the soldiers withdrew, to resume their interrupted repose, the hospital assistant going with the rest. I was left in the tent with Calros and Lola.
I could not help envying the invalid. For the sake of being tended by such a nurse, I would willingly have changed situations with him!
Lola had heard the assurance given by the hospital assistant, and communicated it to the wounded man. There was no longer the dread of death to hinder them from indulging in a free interchange of thought.
Perhaps they had something to say to each other which should not be overheard by any one? Under the idea that my presence might be a restraint, I withdrew; I shall not say without reluctance.