Doña Socorro, plainly desirous of losing no time, threw aside her natural pride, and without a word of reproach to Antón, said, with affected surprise:
“But, what are you doing! child? Now is your time.”
“I do not understand, madam.”
“Then you are not in this world. If you let this chance escape, farewell to your hopes.”
“But, I do not understand, madam.”
“Ah! come now! then you no longer think of Rosalba——”
“As God is my witness, madam; with greater desperation, now, than ever.”
“Then, today is when you ought not to despair; today your hopes are realized. Your fate is in your own hands.”
“In my hands?” exclaimed the astonished youth.
“In your own hands, boy; Rosalba will be yours.”
“Where is she?” he asked yet more surprised.
“Here in your barracks.”
Antón believed Doña Socorro was trifling with him, but she, without giving time for further surprises, hastened to explain herself.
“You know that our party, the Imperialist, is composed of the best people of the country. If you join it, you will come into contact with the most elevated classes. Rosalba does not respond to your love for sheer pride, not because she is not interested in you, not because she does not love