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Updated: May 31, 2025
There was more than a suspicion of moisture in each pair of eyes. Mr. Hampton's gaze fell on Rafaela, with whom he had had a number of pleasant conversations during his captivity. He dropped a hand on her shoulder. "My dear girl," he said. "You never did a kinder deed. I hope you will not have cause to regret it." "Oh," said she with an arch smile.
Rafaela tossed her head, smiling in superior fashion. "You are not a very accomplished courtier, Mr. Jack Hampton," she said, withdrawing her hand. Jack would have protested. He was rapidly falling under the spell of her charm. But she halted him with an imperious gesture. "We are wasting precious time," she said. "Come."
Then suddenly, with the brusqueness of ill-temper, he got up. "Well, so long!" said he. He stopped in the stairway to greet a neighbor and light a cigarette. By the time he had reached the street-door he had forgotten all about Rafaela. But, later, his desire once more awoke. At dinner he dissimulated his observations of the young woman's bare arms.
You would have thought Rafaela was his slave, by the lack of decency and respect he showed her. When he called her, he would hardly condescend to look at her at all. He spoke little to his father, and what he said was rough and harsh. The worst boy in the world could not have acted with more insolence. His wild spirit, lusting pleasure, seemed to burn with an instinctive flame of hate.
"Why, you are just a boy," declared Rafaela, and her eyes lost some of their hostility while at the same time, unconsciously, her voice became less harsh. "Surely," she said, turning to Donna Ana, "this lad can have done nothing so terrible." The prim, black-robed duenna had gained courage from her mistress's temerity. She had ceased trembling. Yet she was exercised about something.
Our stopping place at Burgos was the Fonda de Rafaela, a hotel with a good name, but with regard to the food supplied to the guests the less said the better. There was one peculiarity of this Spanish inn which was too constantly present not to impress us, namely, the extraordinary character and variety of "smells," which were quite overpowering.
The fifteen or twenty years that still might remain to him, he hoped to pass in the loving accumulation of a little fortune to leave his Rafaela. He got up with the sun and worked industriously all day, driven by this ambition. In the evening he took a dog that Don Adolfo had given him, and went wandering in the outskirts of the village. One of his favorite walks was out to the cemetery.
"Oh, no, papa, dear," protested Rafaela, shocked. "Why, he " Frantic lest she might betray herself and him, Jack reached forward cautiously and tapped the tiny ankle dangling before him. He was none too soon. Thus brought to a realization of her position, Rafaela checked the words. "What's that?" asked her father. "What did you say?"
Rafaela's nose was all bloody, her forehead was bruised and her hands bore lacerations. "What's the matter with you?" repeated the engineer. Old and dull as were his eyes, now they blazed up again with that red lightning of death which, twenty years before, had sent him to prison. Rafaela was terrified, and tried to lie out of it. "It's nothing, Amadeo," she stammered. "Nothing, I tell you.
Next morning the old man, who had hardly slept more than an hour or two, woke early. "What time is it?" asked he. Rafaela had already risen. She answered: "Almost six." "Has Manolo come back?" "Not yet." The old engineer got out of bed, dressed as usual and went down to his shop. Rafaela kept watch on him. The apparent calm of the old man looked suspicious.
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