Sarrion looked up at her and was about to speak when she forestalled him. "It is no good telling me to go away," she said, "because I won't." Then she turned to get a sponge and water. Sarrion was already busy at Marcos' collar, which he had unbuttoned. Suddenly he changed his mind and turned away. "Undo his collar," he said. "I will go down-stairs and get some warm water." He took the candle and left Juanita alone with Marcos. She did as she was told and bent over him. Her fingers had caught in a string fastened round Marcos' neck. She brought the lamp nearer. It was her own wedding ring, which she had returned to him after so brief a use of it through the bars of the little window looking on to the Calle de la Dormitaleria at Pampeluna. She tried to undo the knot, but failed to do so. She turned quickly, and took the scissors from the dressing-table and cut the cord, which was a piece of old fishing-line, frayed and worn by friction against the rocks of the river. Juanita hastily thrust the cord into her pocket and drew the ring less quickly on to that finger for which it had been destined. When Sarrion returned to the room a minute later she was carefully and slowly cutting the sleeve of the injured arm. "Do you know, Uncle Ramon," she said cheerfully, "I am sure--I am positively certain he will recover, poor old Marcos." Sarrion glanced at her sharply, as if he had detected a new note in her voice. And his eye fell on her left hand. He made no answer. CHAPTER XXII AN ACCIDENT Marcos recovered consciousness at daybreak. It was a sign of his great strength and perfect health that he regained all his faculties at once. He moved, opened his eyes, and was fully conscious, like a child awakening from sleep. As soon as his eyes were open they showed surprise; for Juanita was sitting beside him, watching him. "Ah!" she said, and rose at once to give him some medicine that stood ready in a glass. She glanced at the clock as she did so. The room had been rearranged. It was orderly and simple like a hospital ward. "Do not try to lift your head," she said. "I will do that for you." She did it with skill and laid him back again with a gay laugh. "There," she said. "There is one thing, and one only, that they teach in covents." As she spoke she turned to write on a sheet of paper the exact hour and minute at which he recovered consciousness. For her knowledge was fresh enough in her mind to be half mechanical in its result. "Will that drug make me sleep?" asked Marcos, alertly. "Yes." "How soon?" "That depends upon how stale the little apothecary's stock-in-trade may be," answered Juanita. "Probably a quarter of an hour. He is a queer little man and unwashed. But he set your collar-bone like an angel. You have to do nothing but keep quiet. I fancy you will have to be content with a quiet seat in the background for some weeks, amigo mio."