Вершник без голови

Chapter 55

           NoMiguelDiaztherenomanofanykind;andwhatgivesherfargreaterchagrin,notascrapofpaper!

           ThereisherhatofvicuñawoolherseraphofSaltillo,andtheloopendofherlazonothingmore.

           "Youmaygohomeagain,SeñorBenito!Themanthrownfromhishorsemusthaverecoveredhissensesand,Isuppose,hissaddletoo.Blessedbethevirgin!Butremember,goodBenitoSecrecyallthesame.Entiende,V?"

           "Yoentiendo,DoñaIsidora."

           Themayor-domomovesaway,andissoonlosttosightbehindthecrestofthehill.

           ***

           Theladyofthelazoisoncemorealoneintheglade.Shespringsoutofhersaddle;donsserapéandsombrero;andisagainthebeau-idealofayouthfulhidalgo.

           Sheremountsslowly,mechanicallyasifherthoughtsdonotcompanytheaction.Languidlysheliftsherlimboverthehorse.Theprettyfootisforasecondortwopoisedintheair.

           Herankle,escapingfromtheskirtofherenagua,displaysatournuretohavecrazedPraxiteles.Asitdescendsontheoppositesideofthehorse,acloudseemstoovershadowthesun.SimonStylitescouldscarcehaveclosedhiseyesonthespectacle.

           Butthereisnospectatorofthisinterestingepisode;noteventhewretchedJosé;who,themomentafter,comesskulkingintotheglade.

           Heisquestioned,withoutcircumlocution,uponthesubjectofthestrayedletter.

           "Whathaveyoudonewithit,sirrah?"

           "Deliveredit,mylady."

           "Towhom?"

           "Ileftitatattheposada,"hereplies,stammeringandturningpale."DonMauriciohadgoneout."

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