"Once more, and for the last time, I desire you to raise your eyes
towards heaven. We have reason to be thankful to it."
While Don Rafael obeyed the direction, Gertrudis permitted the _reboso_
to fall from her shoulders; and with her fingers she removed the comb
that imprisoned her shining hair, which, coiled up in two long plaited
tresses, encircled her crown like a diadem. These she allowed to drop
down at will, until they hung far below her waist. Then seizing in one
hand the scissors she had just been using at her work, and with the
other covering the crimson blush upon her cheek, she held forth the
instrument, at the same time crying out--
"Now, Don Rafael! aid me in keeping my vow, by cutting for me the hair
from my head."
"I?" exclaimed Don Rafael, in whose ear her voice had sounded like the
voice of an angel. "I?" repeated he, astounded at the proposal.
"Gertrudis! Gertrudis!"
"I have promised it to the Virgin for saving you last night. Now do you
comprehend, Don Rafael--my dearly beloved Rafael?"
"Oh, Gertrudis!" cried the lover, in an ecstasy of joy, "you should have
prepared me more gradually for so much happiness."
And kneeling in front of the young girl, he eagerly took hold of her
hand, which no longer refused to let him touch it, but, on the contrary,
was rather advanced to meet his lips.
"Is it my fault?" said Gertrudis, in a tone of sweet playfulness. "Is
it my fault if men are slow at taking a hint? _Santissima_! for a full
quarter of an hour, shameful as it may appear, have I been endeavouring
to prepare you for what you call your happiness." Then suddenly laying
aside her playful tone, she continued--"But now, my dear Rafael, I must
remember my vow. I have made it, and you must assist me in its
accomplishment."
"But why did you promise your hair?" inquired the lover, with a slight
air of chagrin.
"Because I had nothing more valuable to offer in exchange for your
life--mine perhaps as well. Oh! I am well repaid for the sacrifice by
knowing that you love me. Come, Rafael! take the scissors."
"Oh! I could never manage with that weak instrument," said Don Rafael,
speaking merely to gain time.
"Ah! are you going to complain of the trouble it will give you?"
inquired Gertrudis, bending down towards her lover, who was still
kneeling before her--"Come, my brave Rafael! Use these scissors. I
command you."
Don Rafael took the shining instrument in his trembling hand, but still
hesitated to use them--like the woodman, who, with his axe raised
against some noble tree of the forest he has been ordered to cut down,
hesitates before striking the first blow. Gertrudis would have smiled
to encourage him, but at that moment, as she looked upon those gorgeous
tresses, so long and carefully guarded, and which, if unfolded, would
have covered her like a shawl, the poor young girl could not hinder a
tear from escaping her.
"Stay, my Rafael--a moment yet," cried she, while the crimson blush
mantled higher upon her cheeks. "I have long desired--dreamt of it as a
supreme felicity--to entwine in these poor tresses the man whom I should
one day love, and--and--"
Before she could finish speaking, Don Rafael had caught the perfumed
tresses between his fingers, and rapturously kissing them, passed them
around his neck.
"Now I am ready," continued she, raising the long plaits that encircled
her lover's cheeks, and setting the captive free. "Go on, Rafael! I am
ready."
"I should never have the courage to commit such a fearful act," cried
the officer, flinging the scissors upon the floor, and crushing them
under his heel.
"It must be done, Rafael; it must be done. God will punish me else.
Perhaps He may punish me by taking away from me your love."
"Well, I shall do it," rejoined the reluctant lover, "but not yet
awhile. On my return, Gertrudis. For my sake, leave it over till
then."
The passionate appeal of Don Rafael at length obtained a respite, until
the time fixed for his return; which was to be on the morrow--as soon as
he should have assured himself of the safety of his father.
While their next meeting was being arranged between the two lovers,
Gertrudis suddenly started up, like a young doe that springs from its
perfumed lair at the first sound of the hunter's horn.
"Surely I heard a noise?" said she; "a strange noise. What could it
mean?"
Don Rafael, whose senses had been entirely absorbed by his new-found
happiness, sprang also to his feet, and stood listening.
They had scarce listened for a dozen seconds, when a well-known sound
fell upon the ears of both--though well-known, a sound significant and
ominous. It was the report of a gun, quickly followed by several others
as if fired in fusillade.
At the same moment, Don Mariano and his daughter Marianita rushed into
the room. They, too, had heard the reports, which were in the direction
of the hills, and were proceeding to the rear of the hacienda to inquire
the cause.
All remained listening and alarmed--Don Rafael, more than even the young
girls: for too much happiness has the effect of weakening the heart.
The most profound silence reigned throughout the building; for the
firing, heard by the servants of the hacienda, had inspired one and all
of them with the same mute alarm; just as pigeons asleep upon the tree
aroused by the first scream of the kite, remain for some moments
terrified and motionless in their places.