"All the same, do not leave me! I need you, Concha!"
Who would have believed that this swift and resolute Rollo, this firebrand adventurer of ours, would have been brought so low—or so high. But his words were better than all sweet singing in the ears of Concha Cabezos. She clasped his hand tightly and smiled. She would have spoken but could not.
"Ah—I knew you would not leave me!" he murmured, turning a little towards her. "It was foolish to ask!"
Then he was silent for a moment, and as she settled his head more easily on an extemporised pillow, he glanced towards the closed shutters of the little sacristy.
"When will the morning come?" he asked wearily.
For answer Concha threw open the outer door and the new-risen sun shone full upon his pale face.
"The morning is here!" she said, with all the glory of it in her eyes.