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The words were full of kindness, but they hurt Don Juan; he could not pardon this heart-searching goodness on his father's part. "What a remorseful memory for me!" he cried, hypocritically. "Poor Juanino," the dying man went on, in a smothered voice, "I have always been so kind to you, that you could not surely desire my death?"
He was condescending to roll some cigarettes for Tomas, whose wooden hand incommoded him, and he tossed a fragment of tobacco to the wind with a laugh. "In Jamaica there is a merchant, a Señor Ramon; I have letters to him, and he shall find me a conveyance to Rio Medio, my uncle's town. He is an quliado." He laughed again. "It is not easy to enter that place, Juanino."
These words, full of tenderness, pained Don Juan, who could not forgive his father for such goodness. "What, sorrow for me, father!" he cried. "Poor Juanino," answered the dying man, "I have always been so gentle toward you that you could not wish for my death?" "Oh!" cried Don Juan, "if it were possible to preserve your life by giving you a part of mine!"
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