CHAPTER XV
WATSON, as he went on towards the town, felt the prick of a conscience that has lost its accustomed tranquility.
With remorse he remembered the brief dialogue in Canterac’s park, in the course of which he had answered Robledo harshly.
“And for this woman,” he thought, “for this woman who coolly sends men to their death, I treated my best friend in such fashion!”
And after Robledo’s image came that of Celinda, with unhappy, reproachful eyes....
“Poor Flor de Rio Negro,” he thought to himself. “Tomorrow I must go beg her to forgive me ... if she will listen to me....”
Absorbed in his thoughts, he rode into La Presa, letting his horse pick the way. Suddenly he noticed that the animal was hesitating, about to stop. Raising his head Watson saw that he was in front of Elena’s house.
The comisario, assisted by two of his men, was with paternal exhortations gently shoving the last group of curiosity-mongers out of the way.
Don Roque followed them down the street, and Richard was about to ride on when he noticed that one of the windows of the Torre Bianca’s house had opened. A woman’s hand was beckoning to him. Watson remained indifferent to the summons, and the window swung out wide enough to let Elena appear in the opening. She was dressed in black, as though in mourning, but she wore her floating veils with considerable coquetry.
Richard felt that he must at least approach the house sufficiently to offer his greetings. He took off his hat in response to Elena’s affectionate signs to him.