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Updated: June 22, 2025
Don Felipe, in a state of exultation that lifted his soul to the clouds, stood waiting for her on the steps of the church as had been agreed between them; but as the two advanced, Chiquita suddenly paused before the door, and turning, tore the bridal-veil and wreath of orange blossoms from her brow and flung them into his face, crying: "Pepita Delaguerra is avenged!"
"Have you forgotten Pepita Delaguerra, whom you ruined, for whose death you are responsible? You laughed and went on your way; she was only a flower to be broken and tossed aside. Well, I've not forgotten the day on which I found her alone and deserted, nor the hour of her death." "Chiquita," he interrupted, "if suffering can atone for that misdeed "
"Pepita Delaguerra?" he repeated. "I felt all along that she was Don Felipe's child, the resemblance is so striking, and I wonder the others did not notice it, but I never connected her with Pepita; perhaps because it is so long since she died. How strange that he should have introduced his own child without knowing it!" "Yes," returned Chiquita. "And yet it is not so strange after all.
Padre mio, how good you are, and how have I requited you!" she said at length, looking up at him through her tears and slowly disengaging herself from his arms. "You know," she continued between convulsive sobs, and slowly drying her tears, "that little Marieta is the child of Don Felipe and Pepita Delaguerra." Padre Antonio started at the mention of the latter's name.
In the Indian pueblo, La Jara, had lived the beautiful mestiza girl, Pepita Delaguerra, with whom he had fallen in love in early youth. The gentle, confiding nature of Pepita was ill suited to that of the passionate, impulsive Felipe, and proved her undoing.
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