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Updated: June 4, 2025
Before leaving his chamber, he looked once more through the window in the direction of the forest fire. It was still gleaming in the same place. While the lover, with cautious tread and wildly beating heart, was silently traversing the long gallery, and passing round to that side upon which opened the window of Rosarita, other scenes were passing elsewhere that must now be detailed.
Tiburcio, his forehead resting against the bars, appeared to struggle with a painful conviction that was fast forcing itself upon him. "Ah!" said he, "I have not forgotten, as you, Rosarita, the day when I first saw you in the forest. The twilight was so sombre I could scarce make out your form, which appeared like the graceful shadow of some siren of the woods.
But perhaps in the eyes of a woman his pale and sickly appearance might render the young Count of Mediana still more handsome and interesting than was that of Tiburcio Arellanos. Would not that countenance, ennobled by toil and travel, remind Dona Rosarita of the love for which she had every reason to feel proud and happy?
Although it was at that early hour when the sun sheds its most enlivening rays, everything which surrounded this habitation bore the stamp of melancholy. One might have supposed that the gloomy nature of the inmates was reflected upon its exterior. Dona Rosarita was dying of grief; and this filled the haciendado with the deepest anxiety.
These words are serious, and the manner with which they were pronounced, leaves no doubt as to their veracity." "May God pardon him!" replied Rosarita, rising from her knees, "and grant him the mercy he requires."
Fabian indeed smiled; he was dreaming that he was on his knees before Rosarita, listening to the sweet voice of the young girl, who was recounting her anguish during his long absence, and that Bois-Rose stood behind them leaning on his rifle and blessing them both. Ah! it was only a dream. The two hunters looked for a moment silently at the sleeper.
The evening before the arrival of the two travellers, he had inquired what direction he ought to take to reach Don Augustin's house; and, above all, he had testified a great wish to learn whether Dona Rosarita was still unmarried.
But my master is anxious for his return, that he may marry his daughter, Dona Rosarita, a beautiful and charming person, to the Senator Don Vicente Tragaduros.
"The wretch who was about to expiate his crime the assassin of Marcos Arellanos, in short, Cuchillo begged for his life. I had no power to grant it; when he cried, `I ask it in the name of Dona Rosarita, who loves you, for I heard , the suppliant was upon the edge of a precipice. I would have pardoned him for love of you; when one of my companions precipitated him into the gulf below.
While Don Estevan was entertaining his host with some account of what had happened on their journey, the Senator appeared to have eyes only for the beautiful Rosarita upon whom he was not slow in lavishing a string of empty compliments.
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