“Of Don Santiago.”
“And if he did?” exclaimed the elder sister, while her dark eyes flashed with indignation, “what is Pepe to me. I never loved him, and I never told him I did—he has no right to me more than another!”
At this moment a footstep reached the ears of the sisters, causing them to start and look up.
A young man of rather a forbidding appearance was coming up between the rows of magueys. He was dressed in the costume of an ordinary peasant, but the short carbine which he carried over his shoulder, and the belt and pouch slung across his breast, betokened that he was one of the enrolled guerillus, whose head-quarters were for the time in the village of Cholula.
The young man entered through the opening of the nopal fence, and striking the butt of his piece to the ground, stopped in front of the cottage, saluting the sisters with the usual exclamation for that hour “buenos tardes!” (good evening.)
The salutation was returned by both the sisters; but in such a manner by the elder, as showed that she felt a coldness, or rather a repugnance toward the object of it.
Pepe (the name of the intruder,) noticed this, and glared upon her with a scowl which bespoke a strange blending of fierce love with jealous anger. It was evident that he was now before them with some sinister design, and the sisters sat without speaking, but both trembling under the influence of his evil eye.
“So, Remedios, I have found out the reason why you rejected me so scornfully, but I will be revenged.”
“What mean you, Pepe?” asked the girl in a conciliatory tone.
“You know what I mean. I have heard and know well, too, of your partings on the road by the garita. I have been told all—but trust me you will take no more of these affectionate farewells, for this night I will have my revenge. We have laid our plans, and this night your Yankee lover will die—and if by to-morrow at noon you have not promised to be mine, you may dread the vengeance of my comrades, for they shall know all.