“They may say what they please behind my back. Regiments can’t capture tongues and thoughts, but no one is going to speak against my father when I am present.”
“I’ll lay you something, Lucas, that he’ll marry!”
“That will do, Aunt Manuela; you know the saying, ‘Stop jesting while jesting is pleasant.’”
Like all men of stem nature, Lucas, when in earnest, had in him a something that imposed respect: the women were silent, and he went into his own dwelling.
He did not speak to his sister of the matter that occupied his thoughts so painfully, but, after giving her the money he had brought, remained a while talking cheerfully and affectionately with her, and then went in search of his neighbor, Uncle Bartolo.
He knew that the guerilla, on account of his age and good judgment, and because he had been his grandfather’s friend, exercised great influence over his father, and could think of no one so suitable to confide in, and implore to interfere in the matter, and dissuade Juan Garcia, if, indeed, he entertained it, from such an outrageous project.
“Hola! What brings Luquillo with the step of a Catalan and face of a blacksmith?” exclaimed the old man, as Lucas entered.
The youth told his errand.
Uncle Bartolo, having heard him to the end, shook his head, as he remarked: “Lucas, the proverb says, ‘Between two millstones one had best not put his thumbs;’ but—well, for your sake and Lucia’s, the pretty dove! I will do what you ask, even if I lose—and I shall, for certain—your
father’s friendship. I tell you though, beforehand, that interference will do no good.”