"There's blood on its blade, as you see; but it is that of him who would
have been the true assassin, had not my bullet disabled his arm. Have
you ever seen this weapon before?"
"O nor; I could not tell. 'Tis a _machete_. They're all alike."
"Have you ever heard the name of Ramon Rayas?"
The answer was an exclamation--almost a shriek!
"You know him, then?"
"Ramon Rayas! oh, the fiend--he--it was he. He vowed to kill Calros.
Calros! O Calros! Has he fulfilled his vow?"
Once more the girl bent over the body of the Jarocho; and leaning low,
recklessly placed her lips in contact with his blood-stained cheek. At
the same time her arms fondly flung around, seemed to enfold the corpse
in a loving embrace. Had he been alive and conscious, with the
certainty of recovering, I could have envied him that sweet entwining.
My impulse was of a holier nature. If I could not restore the dead, I
might give comfort to the living. But was he dead? It was not till
that moment I had doubted it.
As I stooped over the body, I heard a sound that resembled a sigh. It
could not be the sobbing of the bereaved Lola--though this also was
audible.
The girl had again raised her head, and was holding it a little to one
side, while the sound that had attracted my attention seemed to proceed
from a different direction--in fact from the lips of the man supposed to
be dead.
I lowered my ear to his face, and listened for a repetition of the
sound. It came in a moment as I had before heard it--a sort of sigh
half suppressed, like the breath struggling from a bosom over-weighted.
"Lola," I whispered, "your Calros is not dead. He still breathes."
I needed not to communicate this intelligence. The ear of affection had
been bent, keenly as my own. By the sudden brightening of her
countenance, I could perceive that Lola had heard that same sound, and
was listening to catch it again, as if her life depended on its
repetition.
She had mechanically pushed me aside, so that her ear might be closer to
the mute lips of Calros.
"One moment," I said, gently raising her from her recumbent position;
"perhaps he has only fainted I have a remedy here; a stimulant that may
serve to restore him. Permit me to administer it."
I drew forth the flask which providentially I had brought from the tent.
It contained "Catalan brandy," one of the most potent of spirits.
Silently but readily she glided out of the way, watching my movements
like some affectionate sister who assists the physician by the couch of
an invalid brother.
I felt the pulse of the wounded man. My medical skill was not
extensive; but I could perceive that its beating, though feeble, was not
irregular--not flickering, like a lamp that was destined soon to become
extinguished.
Lola read hope in my looks: her own became brighter.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I pulled out the stopper. I applied the flask to the lips of the
unconscious Calros, pouring into his mouth a portion of the Catalonian
spirit.
The effect was almost instantaneous. His bosom began to heave, his
breath issued forth more freely, his glazed eyes showed signs of
reanimation.
The girl could scarcely be restrained from repeating her fond embraces.
Presently the eyes of the invalid seemed to see--almost to recognise.
His lips moved, as though he was endeavouring to speak, but as yet there
came forth no sound.
Once more I applied the flask, pouring into his throat nearly a
wine-glassful of the Catalan.
In less than a score of seconds the dose produced its effect--made known
by a movement throughout the frame of the Jarocho, and a muttered
whisper proceeding from his lips.
Again the girl would have strangled him with her passionate caresses.
Judging from the joy with which she witnessed his resuscitation, her
affection for him must have been boundless.
"Keep away from him!" I said, adding to the verbal caution a slight
exertion of physical force. "There is scarcely an ounce of blood in his
body, that is why he has fainted; that and the shock caused by the
threat of--"
I did not choose to disquiet her by repeating what appeared to be a
dreaded name. "Excitement of any kind may prove fatal. _If you love
him_ stay out of his sight; at least for a while, till he recover
strength sufficient to bear your presence."
How idle in me to have made use of these words, "if you love him!" The
appearance of the handsome Jarocho, handsome even with death's pallor on
his brow, forbade any other belief; while the beautiful Jarocha,
beautiful through all the changes of anger and hate, despair and hope,
showed by her every action that Calros Vergara was the loved one of her
life.
"Keep out of sight," I again requested: "pray do not go near him till I
return. The night air is unfavourable to his recovery. I must seek
assistance, and have him carried into my tent. I entreat you, Senorita,
do not make yourself known to him now, or the shock may be fatal."
The look given by the girl, in answer to my solicitations, produced upon
me an impression at once vivid and peculiar. It was a mingling of
pleasure and pain, just in proportion as my fancy whispered me, that in
those glances there was something more than gratitude.
Alas! it is true. Even in that melancholy hour, I felt pleasure in the
thought that, whether he might recover or die, I should one day supplant
Calros Vergara in the affections of his beloved Lola!
Story 1, Chapter VII.