“What?”
“That we may henceforth be good friends.”
“With much pleasure—from now on.”
“Do not hold hatred toward me and forget the things that have happened.”
“Why should I hold hatred?”
“Because of what I did.”
“You did it like a man; it needs naught said.”
“Then give me the good hand.”
“Here it is,” answered the wounded man, extending his hot left hand. Roque grasped it with feeling.
“God grant that you may soon be well,” he murmured.
“With a maimed hand,” added the wounded man, his pallid and dry lips contracted in a sad smile.
“God’s will be done,” said Roque, sympathetically.
At this moment a whistle was heard from near by.
“Indeed it is time that you go,” said Panfilo. “Do you not see