nning from his arm, still fearlessly maintained his defensive
attitude, caused the heart of Rosarita to beat with sympathetic
admiration. This sanguinary _denouement_ to their interview, was
pleading the cause of the lover far more eloquently than either his
reproaches or promises!

The first impulse of Rosarita was to fling herself into the arms of the
young man so daring and beautiful. She was restrained only from
following this impulse, by a feeling of feminine delicacy; and for an
instant Tiburcio seemed the one about whom she was least concerned.

"Oh! my God!" cried she, "are you wounded? Don Estevan? Senor
Cuchillo? Senor Arechiza! retire; for the love of the Virgin, let not
the world know that a crime has been committed in our house."

The excited bearing of the young girl, her bosom heaving under the light
tissue of her dress, her reboso floating behind her, mingled with the
long dark tresses of her dishevelled hair--all these, added to the proud
savage beauty of her countenance--commanded respect; and as if by
enchantment, the weapons of the combatants were restored to their
sheaths.

Cuchillo growled like a dog newly muzzled, while Don Estevan preserved a
sombre silence. Both walked away from the ground, and their forms were
soon lost in the darkness.

Tiburcio, with face upturned, his eyes still flashing with rage, his
features illuminated with the red light of the torch, remained for some
moments without changing his attitude. His features exhibited that
superb expression that danger only magnifies into grandeur. Gradually,
however, their tone became softened, and an air of melancholy succeeded
it, as his eyes rested upon Rosarita. The young girl had suddenly
become pale, under the reaction of such vivid emotions, as well as under
the influence of the powerful sentiment now rekindled within her heart.
Acting under this influence as well, she hastily arranged her scarf in
order to cover her nude shoulders, and the palpitating movements of her
bosom. Even her motive for this was misunderstood by Tiburcio.

"Rosarita!" he said, speaking with perfect calmness, "I might have
doubted your words, but your actions have spoken more plainly. It was
to my enemies you first ran, though my blood was spilling; all your
fears appeared to be for Don Estevan."

"God knows that I do not deserve this reproach," said the young girl, as
with a look of terror she saw the blood streaming to the ground. At the