“God’s will be done,” said Roque, sympathetically. At this moment a whistle was heard from near by. “Indeed it is time that you go,” said Panfilo. “Do you not see that persons are coming?” He could scarcely speak; he was on the point of losing consciousness. Roque hesitated. “How leave you?” he said. “Go, if you desire that we be friends; if not, remain.” “Then I leave.” “Farewell, and run fast that they may not overtake you.” * * * * * So urgent and impassioned was his request that the girl was moved in spite of herself. To quench the sympathy which rose in her bosom she recalled to herself that he who thus spoke was the nominal friend of Gonzalo, and on remembering this she felt that for her budding pity was substituted vexation and indignation. Thus this harsh reproach escaped her lips: “And you call yourself the friend of Gonzalo.” Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Luis it would not have produced a more prostrating effect. “Gonzalo is my friend, in fact,” he gasped. “Not if he knew himself,” insisted Ramona, ironically. “If it were so you could not have spoken as you have just done.” “Then are you yet in relations with him?” “You know it very well.” “No,” replied the unfortunate youth, pale as a corpse; “I give you my word as a gentleman that I did not know it. My father told me some days past that he knew these relations were broken; only for this reason have I forced myself to reveal to you my love. I may endure the fact that you do not love me, since such is my lot, but I cannot be willing that you should consider me disloyal. I desire that you should esteem me even if you may not love me.” * * * * * The youth in the meantime had arrived at his home, mounted his horse and immediately sallied forth to the house of Luis. He sent a message to his former friend by a servant, begging him that he would come outside, which Medina did immediately, well bred and polite as he was. “Gonzalo!” said Medina, extending his hand. “I come to arrange with you a very serious matter,” replied our youth, without extending his. “You have me at your orders,” replied Luis, exchanging the friendly expression of his face for another more severe. “Only we cannot do it here. Mount your horse and take your arms. I await you.” And by the contraction of his features and the pallor of his countenance, Medina knew that Gonzalo had come on a warlike errand, and was not slow in divining what was the cause of his annoyance. Without replying a single word he entered the house and soon reappeared and mounted his horse, with a pistol at his belt and a sword at the saddle. “Here you have me,” he said to Gonzalo. “Come,” replied Gonzalo, “let us go to the field.”