“By the Virgin! I shall not trust you. You are too free of limb, sweet margarita! you might try to give me the slip. This is a better plan. Come! raise yourself up—a little higher—so. Now we go—now for the grove. Vamos!”
While delivering the last words, the ruffian bent himself over the half-prostrate captive; and, placing his arm underneath, wound it around her waist. He then raised her upward until her bosom rested upon his—the bosom of my betrothed in juxtaposition with the painted breast of this worse than savage!
I saw it, and slew him not; I saw it, and kept cool—I can scarcely tell why, for it is not a characteristic of my nature. My nerves, from being so much played upon during the preceding hours, had acquired the firmness of steel; perhaps this enabled me to endure the sight—this, combined with the almost certain prospect of an improved opportunity.
At all events, I kept cool, and remained in my place though only for a moment longer.
Chapter Ninety Nine.
The Crisis.
The renegade, having raised the unresisting captive in his arms, proceeded to carry her from the spot. He scarcely carried her; her feet, naked and bound, trailed along the grass, both together.
He passed the lodge, and was going towards the copse, in an oblique direction. The savages who saw him made no attempt to interfere, shouted some lewd phrases, and laughed!