“That will do, Aunt Manuela; you know the saying, ‘Stop jesting while jesting is pleasant.’” Like all men of stem nature, Lucas, when in earnest, had in him a something that imposed respect: the women were silent, and he went into his own dwelling. He did not speak to his sister of the matter that occupied his thoughts so painfully, but, after giving her the money he had brought, remained a while talking cheerfully and affectionately with her, and then went in search of his neighbor, Uncle Bartolo. He knew that the guerilla, on account of his age and good judgment, and because he had been his grandfather’s friend, exercised great influence over his father, and could think of no one so suitable to confide in, and implore to interfere in the matter, and dissuade Juan Garcia, if, indeed, he entertained it, from such an outrageous project. “Hola! What brings _Luquillo_ with the step of a Catalan and face of a blacksmith?” exclaimed the old man, as Lucas entered. The youth told his errand. Uncle Bartolo, having heard him to the end, shook his head, as he remarked: “Lucas, the proverb says, ‘Between two millstones one had best not put his thumbs;’ but--well, for your sake and Lucia’s, the pretty dove! I will do what you ask, even if I lose--and I shall, for certain--your father’s friendship. I tell you though, beforehand 52 that interference will do no good.” “But, uncle, that which is never attempted is never done.” “Have I not told you I would try? You shall never say that you sought me and did not find me. I only want to remind you that counsels are thrown away upon the foolhardy, and perfumes upon swine. And to tell the truth, I would rather tackle one of those highwaymen of last year than your father; notwithstanding that the she-bandit has taken and done for him as easily as a spider would vanquish a fly.” Our old warrior went, the next day, to see Juan Garcia, whom he found indisposed. “Hola! Juan,” he cried, as he entered, how are you?” “Not so well as I might be, uncle,” responded the invalid. “And you?” “As well as can be, since I am a man of the old times, and not sorry for it: better suited beneath white hairs than white sheets. But,” continued the guerilla, who in his long career had never studied diplomacy nor learned the art of preambling, “let us come to the point; for one needn’t go by the bush where there’s a high-road; they tell me, though I don’t want to believe it, that you are going to marry.” Juan contracted his brows, and replied: “And if I have never told any one so, how could they tell it to you?” “Answer one question with another, to avoid committing thyself,” is a rule of rustic grammar that the people have at their fingers’ ends. Uncle Bartolo proceeded: “It’s easy to see how; you are thinking of it; and people nowadays are so sharp that they divine the thoughts. So that we may as well be plain--it is what you mean to do. Tell the truth, now.”