“I call God to witness that I believed your love relations with Ramona were broken. Don Miguel had told my father that with absolute certainty. Every one in Citala asserted the same. You did not come to town, and as your father and Don Miguel were quarreling it seemed to me probable and I believed it. For this reason I made love to Ramona. Had it not been for this I would have remained silent, as I have been silent for so many years, for my love to her is nothing new. I have always had it. Ramona informed me of my error, and accused me of perversity and treason, as you have just done. She herself can tell you how astonished I was when I learned that it was not true that all was ended between you and that you still loved each other. It caused me infinite grief. Now,” pursued the youth, “that you have heard me, I have done, and am at your orders.” * * * * * The caravan for some leagues journeyed silently, but seeing that the storm approached, the sergeant neared himself to one of the soldiers and said to him in a low voice: “The storm is coming; here is a good place.” “Yes, we have already gone six leagues and there has not been one person on the road.” “Well, then, let us at once to what we have to do; then let us get back to the pueblo.” “That is what I say,” responded the soldier. “Go on then, you already know what you have to do; see if you can do it. I pretend not to look; I will fall behind.” “I go then to see what happens.” The soldier drew near to Roque. “What cheer, friend? How goes it?” “Diabolically, friend. How do you expect it goes with me with these cords?” replied the prisoner. “Yes, it must go very unpleasantly. Why don’t you smoke a cigarette?” “Friend, impossible. Don’t you see that I go tied?” “‘Tis true, I see it with pity. Now you will see what we will do. At last the sergeant has fallen behind and will not see us. I’m going to untie you to give you a little rest.” “But will not the sergeant see it? Thank you much; but will he not see?” “Have no concern; anyway it is very dark.” And the soldier leaned over and untied the knot which held Roque’s hands. “May God reward you, friend,” said he, stretching his arms in front of him; “I was very tired. But tell me, why are your hands so cold? Are you chilled?” “Nothing is the matter with me. The air is damp. But, take a cigarette. Here is the light;”--and he reined up. The unsuspecting Roque rolled the cigarette and lighted it by that which the soldier was smoking. They then went on, talking. After talking for a little time of indifferent matters the gendarme said: “Man, friend, I sympathize with you and it pains me that you are going to jail.” “There is no alternative, friend! Some day I will be out. Anyway the jail does not eat people.”