She had asked the strange man on the doorstep, &ldquo;Who wounded you?&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;The soldiers, senora,&rdquo; Gaspar Ruiz had answered, in a faint voice. </p> <p> &ldquo;Patriots?&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;Si.&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;What for?&rdquo; </p> <p> &ldquo;Deserter,&rdquo; he gasped, leaning against the wall under the scrutiny of her black eyes. &ldquo;I was left for dead over there.&rdquo; </p> <p> She led him through the house out to a small hut of clay and reeds, lost in the long grass of the overgrown orchard. He sank on a heap of maize straw in a corner, and sighed profoundly. </p> <p> &ldquo;No one will look for you here,&rdquo; she said, looking down at him. &ldquo;Nobody comes near us. We, too, have been left for dead&mdash;here.&rdquo; </p> <p> He stirred uneasily on his heap of dirty straw, and the pain in his neck made him groan deliriously. </p> <p> &ldquo;I shall show Estaban some day that I am alive yet,&rdquo; he mumbled. </p> <p> He accepted her assistance in silence, and the many days of pain went by. Her appearances in the hut brought him relief and became connected with the feverish dreams of angels which visited his couch; for Gaspar Ruiz was instructed in the mysteries of his religion, and had even been taught to read and write a little by the priest of his village. He waited for her with impatience, and saw her pass out of the dark hut and disappear in the brilliant sunshine with poignant regret. He discovered that, while he lay there feeling so very weak, he could, by closing his eyes, evoke her face with considerable distinctness. And this discovered faculty charmed the long, solitary hours of his convalescence. Later on, when he began to regain his strength, he would creep at dusk from his hut to the house and sit on the step of the garden door. </p> <p> In one of the rooms the mad father paced to and fro, muttering to himself with short, abrupt laughs. In the passage, sitting on a stool, the mother sighed and moaned. The daughter, in rough threadbare clothing, and her white haggard face half hidden by a coarse manta, stood leaning against the side of the door. Gaspar Ruiz, with his elbows propped on his knees and his head resting in his hands, talked to the two women in an undertone. </p> <p> The common misery of destitution would have made a bitter mockery of a marked insistence on social differences. Gaspar Ruiz understood this in his simplicity. From his captivity amongst the Royalists he could give them news of people they knew. He described their appearance; and when he related the story of the battle in which he was recaptured the two women