Catalina’s gaze was once more turned upon the setting sun. In a few minutes he would disappear behind the snowy ridge of the mountain. Then a few hours, and then—moments of bliss!
Roblado was seated in his cuartel as before. As before, a tiny knock sounded upon the door. As before, he called out, “Quien es?” and was answered, “Yo!” and, as before, he recognised the voice and gave the order for its owner to enter. As before, it was the soldier José, who, in a cringing voice and with a cringing salute, approached his officer.
“Well, José, what news?”
“Only this,” replied the soldier, holding out a slip of paper folded into an oblong shape.
“What is it?” demanded Roblado. “Who is it from?” in the same breath.
“The captain will understand it better than I can, as I can’t read; but it comes from the Señorita, and looks inside like a letter. The Señorita got it from somebody at church yesterday morning: so thinks Vicenza, for she saw her read it as soon as she got back from morning prayers. Vicenza thinks that the girl Josefa brought it up the valley, but the captain most likely can tell for himself.”
Roblado had not listened to half of this talk; but had instead been swallowing the contents of the paper. As soon as he had got to the end of it he sprang from his chair as if a needle had been stuck into him, and paced the room in great agitation.
“Quick! quick, José!” he exclaimed. “Send Gomez here. Say nothing to any one. Hold yourself in readiness—I shall want you too. Send Gomez instantly. Vaya!”
The soldier made a salute less cringing because more hurried, and precipitately retired from the apartment. Roblado continued—