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Updated: June 20, 2025
He turned his head with a quick movement, and his eyes fell and fastened themselves instantly upon the brilliant little face glowing like some bright flower among those humbler and less blooming. "He looks at you, Pepita," said José. "He looks at you and at Jovita," Pepita answered. And she laughed and turned her face away. But not before Sebastiano had seen it well. It was Fate.
"I have always loved you," he said, with simple pride. "When we were children, you know I always promised that you should see better days." She had forgotten to count the weeks and days, or to take note of the changing seasons, when one hot day in the early summer he came in José with an innocent joy in his face. He looked questioningly at Pepita two or three times and then coughed.
Then he said good-by, understanding the embarrassment his presence might cause. Pepita was a good girl, she was dazzled by his works and the appearance of the house. The master could do what he wanted with her. "Well, little girl, you stay here. The gentleman is my father; I told you already. Be sure and be a good girl."
Her father raged against himself in that he had given life to so much moral deformity. And yet it was not from him that she inherited "that cursed Spanish blood," he said, turning away with a groan, including Pepita, Leam, all his past with its ruined love and futile dreams, its hope and its despair, in that one bitter word. "Don't say that, papa: mamma and I are true.
I and Joaquin Flores and his wife were the only witnesses to the marriage. But there is a sequel. Pepita gave birth to a child, a girl, after Felipe deserted her. I learned later that Chiquita and the two Flores concealed it somewhere in one of the Indian pueblos near La Jara, as they feared Don Felipe would make way with the child should he learn of its existence.
We went to a large gloomy house, which my companion informed me was the principal posada of the town. We entered the kitchen, at the extremity of which a large fire was blazing. "Pepita," said my companion to a handsome girl, who advanced smiling towards us; "a brasero and a private apartment; this cavalier is a friend of mine, and we shall sup together."
The sentimental rest which she and her people had afforded during the turbulent times of that volcanic Pepita had also its sweet savor of association that did not make her less delightful in the present; and when he looked at her now, faded as she was, he used to try and conjure back her image, such as it had been when she was a pretty, blushing, affectionate young girl, who loved him as flowers love the sun, innocently, unconsciously, and without the power of repulsion.
Still I was uneasy, and shortly made some excuse to leave the room and saunter round and about the house, to assure myself that Pepita had spoken truly when she had said that there was no one there except the old woman and herself.
Pepita showed all her little gleaming teeth, and then put the stem of a rose between them and held it there like a cigarette as she looked under her eyelashes at the people. The rose was not as red as her scornful little mouth. "He was always kind to her when he saw her," continued Manuel. "Once he gave her his devisa. When she died she held it in her hand and would not let it go.
When the day of triumph came, surely domestic happiness would return, more vivid than ever when Balthazar became aware of this chasm in the life of love, which his heart would surely disavow. Josephine knew her husband well enough to be certain that he would never forgive himself for having made his Pepita less than happy during several months.
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