“I cast myself at her feet, I seized her hands, I watered them with my tears, I reminded her of all the happy moments we had spent together, I offered to continue my brigand’s life, if that would please her. Everything, sir, everything--I offered her everything if she would only love me again. “She said: “‘Love you again? That’s not possible! Live with you? I will not do it!’ “I was wild with fury. I drew my knife, I would have had her look frightened, and sue for mercy--but that woman was a demon. “I cried, ‘For the last time I ask you. Will you stay with me?’ “‘No! no! no!’ she said, and she stamped her foot. “Then she pulled a ring I had given her off her finger, and cast it into the brushwood. “I struck her twice over--I had taken Garcia’s knife, because I had broken my own. At the second thrust she fell without a sound. It seems to me that I can still see her great black eyes staring at me. Then they grew dim and the lids closed. “For a good hour I lay there prostrate beside her corpse. Then I recollected that Carmen had often told me that she would like to lie buried in a wood. I dug a grave for her with my knife and laid her in it. I hunted about a long time for her ring, and I found it at last. I put it into the grave beside her, with a little cross--perhaps I did wrong. Then I got upon my horse, galloped to Cordova, and gave myself up at the nearest guard-room. I told them I had killed Carmen, but I would not tell them where her body was. That hermit was a holy man! He prayed for her--he said a mass for her soul. Poor child! It’s the _calle_ who are to blame for having brought her up as they did.” CHAPTER IV