“The elder was called Bois-Rose, the second Pepé. As to the young man—”
Gayferos appeared vainly endeavouring to recall the name without remarking the anguish which was depicted in the young girl’s agitated frame, and visible in her anxious eyes.
By the similarity of position between Tiburcio and the unknown, she could not doubt but that it was he; and the poor child was collecting all her strength to listen to his name, and not to utter, on hearing it, a cry of happiness and love.
“As to the young man,” continued the narrator, “he was called Fabian.”
At this name, which was unknown to the young girl, and which at once destroyed her pleasant delusions, she pressed her hand upon her heart, her lips became white, and the colour which hope had revived in her cheek faded away. She could only repeat mechanically.
“Fabian!”
At this moment the recital was interrupted by the entrance of a servant. The Chaplain begged the haciendado to come to him for an instant, upon some business he had to communicate to him.
Don Augustin quitted the apartment, saying that he should speedily return.
Gayferos and the young girl were now left alone; the former observed her some moments in silence, and with a delight he could scarcely conceal, saw that Rosarita trembled beneath the folds of her silk scarf. By a secret feeling the poor child divined that Gayferos had not yet finished. At length the latter said gently, “Fabian bore another name, Señorita; do you wish to hear it, while we are alone and without witnesses?”
Rosarita turned pale.