"Does Don Marcelino love you, Chica?"
"Yes," she said, trying hard to answer in a steady voice.
Don Alfonso stretched out his hand, and drawing her down to him he kissed her, and murmured in a low voice in English:
"Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us."
Then Magdalen fell on her knees beside the bed and burst into tears.
When Marcelino reached Evaña's house he found his friend already gone. On foot he followed him, not doubting that he would see him or hear of him on the Plaza Mayor. Neither here nor in any of the streets as he passed along did he see any troops, every corps was in its own barracks, under arms and ready to march at a moment's notice, awaiting orders only from the revolutionary committee to appear. But every street leading to the Plaza Mayor was thronged with groups of citizens, who, careless of the rain, wended their way thither. As Marcelino entered the Plaza he saw the wide causeway of the Recoba Nueva occupied by long lines of young men, all of whom were armed, some with pistols, some with sword-sticks. Among these young men Evaña walked hurriedly, striving apparently to establish some organisation amongst them, which was each moment destroyed by the accession of fresh recruits.
"What is that?" said Evaña, as Marcelino walked up to him and he saw the blue and white rosette on the lappel of his coat.
"These," answered Marcelino, taking the streamers in his hand, "are the colours of La Patria."
"Viva La Patria!" shouted Evaña, taking off his hat.