"I am here, señora. Can I be of service to you?" I asked her as she passed by me.
She raised her deep, sunken eyes to mine, and, when she recognized me, she exclaimed:
"Oh, thanks, thanks! This is a great consolation for me, in my last hour of life. Father," she added, turning to the priest who stood beside her, "may I speak a few words to this generous friend?"
"Yes, my daughter," answered the venerable minister.
Then Gabriela asked me: "Where is he?"
"He is absent—"
"May God bless him and make him happy! When you see him, ask him to forgive me even as I believe God has already forgiven me. Tell him I love him yet, although this love is the cause of my death."
We had arrived at the foot of the scaffold stairway, where I was compelled to leave her. A tear, perhaps the last one there was in that suffering heart, rolled down her cheek. Once more she said: "Tell him that I died blessing him."
Suddenly there came a roar like that of thunder. The mass of people swayed, shouted, danced, laughed like maniacs, and above all this tumult one word rang out clearly:
"Pardoned! Pardoned!"