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His temper was more evil than ever, if that were possible, for he had drunk again in an effort to drown the memory of his earlier actions. With him rode half a dozen or more of his friends, coming to dine and put in another night at his expense. There were Pablo Peza, and Mario de Castano, once more; Col.
I tell you it broke more than one heart. De Castano, for instance, has never recovered. He sits all day in the Casino and grieves for her. Such hair and eyes, such skin as white as milk and flesh as pure as the petals of a flower. Well, you wouldn't believe such charms existed."
I did not ascend the ravine any higher; but here, near Castano, I examined several sections, of which I will not give the details, only observing, that the porphyritic beds, or submarine lavas, preponderate greatly in bulk over the alternating sedimentary layers, which have been but little metamorphosed: these latter consist of fine-grained red tuffs and of whitish volcanic grit-stones, together with much of a singular, compact rock, having an almost crystalline basis, finely brecciated with red and green fragments, and occasionally including a few large pebbles.
At first O'Reilly concerned himself more than a little with the problem of escape, but as time wore on he thought less and less about that. Nor did he have occasion to waste further concern regarding his disguise. That it was perfect he proved when several of his former acquaintances passed him by and when, upon one occasion, he came face to face with old Don Mario de Castano.
Who would die without revealing the place where he had stored his treasure?" Dona Isabel, it was plain, felt her wrongs keenly; she spoke with as much spirit as if her husband had permitted himself to be killed purely out of spite toward her. De Castano shook his round bullet head, saying with some impatience: "You still believe in that treasure, eh?
A stop of a few hours was made at the quaint little adobe-built town cabins formed of sun-dried bricks known by the name of Castaño, situated on the trunk line of the Mexican Central road, near the city of Monclova, which is a considerable mining centre. This small native village is the first typical object of the sort which greets the traveler who enters the country from the north.
This calm announcement seemed to stupefy De Castano. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair, and with his wet handkerchief poised in one pudgy hand he stared fixedly at the speaker. His eyes were round and bulging, the sweat streamed unheeded from his temples. He resembled some queer bloated marine monster just emerged from the sea and momentarily dazzled by the light.
These patriots you talk about are the blacks, the mulattoes, the lowest, laziest savages in Cuba." "Please! Don Mario!" the girl pleaded. "I cannot marry you, for I love another." "Eh?" "I love another. I'm betrothed to O'Reilly, the American and he's coming back to marry me." De Castano twisted himself laboriously out of his chair and waddled toward the door.
Fate was kind. After years of patient scheming Cueto had obtained his reward. One afternoon, perhaps a week later, Don Mario de Castano came puffing and blowing up to the quinta, demanding to see Rosa without a moment's delay. The girl appeared before her caller had managed to dry up the streams of perspiration resulting from his exertions.
Neither Chamuscado nor Espejo kept journals, but Castaño de Sosa, and especially Oñate, did. But the document itself is a sober, matter-of-fact record of occurrences and geographical details, interspersed with observations of more or less ethnological value. The diario forms the beginning of accurate knowledge of the region under consideration.
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