“I ask favours from no one,” interrupted Don Rafael, with a haughty glance towards Trujano.
“You will grant me one—that of giving me your hand,” said the ex-muleteer, at the same time cordially holding out his own.
“Never to a conqueror!” exclaimed Don Rafael, though evidently affected, in spite of himself, by the action and speech of his generous enemy.
“Here there is neither conqueror nor conquered,” rejoined Trujano, with that winning smile that gained all hearts. “There is a man, however, who always remembers a service done to him.”
“And another who never forgets one,” repeated Don Rafael, with warmth, at the same time grasping the hand that was still held towards him.
Then the two horsemen drew their horses nearer, and exchanged the most cordial greetings.
Trujano profited by this occasion to whisper in the ear of his enemy, and with a delicacy which still further moved Don Rafael, whose pride he had treated with such condescension—
“Go—you are free. Only promise not to cut the hair off the heads of any more poor women; although it is said there was one whose heart trembled with pride that the conqueror of Aguas Calientes should send her such a terrible souvenir. Go!” added he, withdrawing his hand from the convulsive grasp of Don Rafael, “deliver yourself up a prisoner at the hacienda Las Palmas, where the road is open for you, believe me.”
Then, as if he had too long occupied himself with the trivial affairs of the world, the countenance of Trujano resumed its expression of ascetic gravity, and when the eye of Don Rafael was interrogating it, in hopes of reading there the true signification of the last words, the insurgent chieftain called out—
“Let Don Rafael Tres-Villas pass free! Let every one forget what has occurred.”