“Which, then, Lola?”
“You saw an officer among them, did you not?—a handsome young officer?”
My heart then thrilled with a pleasant emotion. I bent my eyes with keen scrutiny upon the face of the invalid. I expected to see there an expression denoting jealousy. I thought it strange that no such thought could be detected on the features of Calros Vergara.
“He must be brave, too,” continued the girl, “to have conquered the Capitan Rayas.”
“Conquered Rayas! How? What mean you, Lola?”
“You see those spots of blood on your shirt-bosom? There were others on your face, but I have washed them off. I thought it was yours, Calros.”
“And is it not?”
“No. This is fresh blood, as you may tell by looking at it. It is not yet quite dried. Thanks to the holy Virgin, it is not yours; to lose more would have killed you, Calros; the medico said so.”
“Carrambo! whose is it then?”
“Don Ramon’s.”