“Maria, they have taken my arms from me. Cowards! Cowards! Miserable cowards! I refused to give them up! They held my hands and robbed me--robbed me of my manhood and honor! I begged them to shoot me ere they did it, and they spoke courteously and regretted this, and hoped that, till I felt that it would be a joy to strangle them.” “Roberto! Mi Roberto! You have me!” “I want my rifle and all it represents. I want myself back again. Maria, Maria, until then, I am not worthy to be any good woman’s husband!” “Roberto, dearest! It is not your fault.” “It is my fault. I have waited too long. My sons showed me my duty--my soul urged me to do it. I deserve the shame, but I will wipe it out with crimson blood.” The Senora stood speechless, wringing her hands. Her own passion was puny beside the sternness, the reality, and the intensity of the quiet rage before her. She was completely mastered by it. She forgot all but the evident agony she could neither mistake nor console. “I have come to say ‘farewell,’ Maria. We have been very happy together--Maria--our children--dearest--” “Oh, Roberto! My husband! My soul! My life! Leave me not.” “I am going for my arms. I will take them a hundredfold from those who have robbed me. I swear I will!” “You do not love me. What are these Americans to you? I am your wife. Your Maria--” “These Americans are my brothers--my sons. My mother is an American woman.” “And I?” “You are my wife--my dear wife! I love you--God Almighty knows how well I love you; but we must part now, at least for a short time. Maria, my dear one, I must go.” “Go? Where to?” “I am going to join General Houston.” “I thought so. I knew it. The accursed one! Oh that I had him here again! I would bury my stiletto in his heart! Over the white hilt I would bury it! I would wash my hands in his blood, and think them blessed ever afterwards! Stay till daylight, Roberto. I have so much to say, dearest.” “I cannot. I have stayed too long. And now I must ride without a gun or knife to protect me. Any Indian that I meet can scalp me. Do you understand now what disarming means, Maria? If I had gone with my boy, with my brave Jack, I could at least have sold my life to its last drop.” “In the morning, Roberto, Lopez Navarro will get you a gun. Oh, if you must go, do not go unarmed! There are ten thousand Comanche between here and the Brazos.” “How could I look Lopez Navarro in the face? Or any other man? No, no! I must win back my arms, before I can walk the streets of San Antonio again.” He took her in his arms, he kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her lips, murmuring tender little Spanish words that meant, oh, so much, to the wretched woman!--words she had taught him with kisses--words he never used but to her ears only.