Вершник без голови

Chapter 66

           Sheremainsirresoluteforatime—ten—fifteen—twentyminutes.

           Herthoughtsarenottobeenvied.Thereisnotmuchsweetnessintherevenge,shebelievesherselfinstrumentalinhavingaccomplished.Ifshehascausedhumiliationtothewomanshehates,alongwithitshemayhavebroughtruinuponthemanwhomsheloves?Despiteallthathaspassed,shecannothelplovinghim!

           "SantissimaVirgen!"shemutterswithaferventearnestness."WhathaveIdone?Ifthesemen—LosReguladores—thedreadedjudgesI’veheardof—iftheyshouldfindhimguilty,wheremayitend?Inhisdeath!MotherofGod!Idonotdesirethat.Notbytheirhands—no!no!Howwildtheirlooksandgestures—stern—determined!AndwhenIpointedouttheway,howquicklytheyrodeoff,withoutfurtherthoughtofme!Oh,theyhavemadeuptheirminds.DonMauricioistodie!Andheastrangeramongthem—sohaveIheard.Notoftheircountry,orkindred;onlyofthesamerace.Alone,friendless,withmanyenemies.Santissima!whatamIthinkingof?Isnothe,whohasjustleftme,thatcousinofwhomI’veheardspeak!Aydemi!NowdoIunderstandthecauseofhisquestioning.Hisheart,likemineown—likemineown!"

           Shesitswithhergazebentovertheopenplain.Thegreysteedstillfretsunderrestraint,thoughthecavalladahaslongsincepassedoutofsight.Hebutrespondstothespiritofhisrider;whichheknowstobevacillating—chafingundersomeirresolution.

           ’Tisthehorsethatfirstdiscoversadanger,orsomethingthatscentsofit.

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