“Do not mention it,” he replied, with a dignified wave of his hand. “I am pleased to have been able to render you this small service.”
CHAPTER XVI
When Alday had left us, the charming señorita, in whose care I was well pleased to find myself, led me into a cool, spacious room, dimly lighted, scantily furnished, and with a floor of red tiles. It was a great relief to drop into a sofa there, for I now felt fatigued and suffered great pain from my arm. In a few moments I had the señorita, her mother, Doña Mercedes, and an old serving-woman all round me. Gently drawing off my coat, they subjected my wounded arm to a minute examination; their compassionate finger-tips—those of the lovely Dolores especially—feeling like a soft, cooling rain on the swollen, inflamed part, which had become quite purple.
“Ah, how barbarous of them to hurt you like that! a friend, too, of our General!” exclaimed my beautiful nurse; which made me think that I had involuntarily become associated with the right political party in the State.
They rubbed the arm with sweet oil; while the old servant brought in a bundle of rue from the garden, which, being bruised in a mortar, filled the room with a fresh, aromatic smell. With this fragrant herb she made a cooling cataplasm. Having dressed my arm, they placed it in a sling, then in place of my coat a light Indian poncho was brought for me to wear.
“I think you are feverish,” said Doña Mercedes, feeling my pulse. “We must send for the doctor—we have a doctor in our little town, a very skilful man.”
“I have little faith in doctors, señora,” I said, “but great faith in women and grapes. If you will give me a cluster from your vine to refresh my blood I promise to be well very soon.”
Dolores laughed lightly and left the room, only to return in a few minutes with a dish full of ripe, purple clusters. They were delicious, and did seem to allay the fever I felt, which had probably been caused as much by angry passions as by the blow I had received.