terrible, the inconstant Capataz de Cargadores, and his Morenita.

Nostromo, looking down, saw tears beginning to fall down her face.

"Has it come, then, ever beloved of my heart?" she whispered. "Is it
true?"

"No," said Nostromo, looking away carelessly. "It was a lie. I love thee
as much as ever."

"Is that true?" she cooed, joyously, her cheeks still wet with tears.

"It is true."

"True on the life?"

"As true as that; but thou must not ask me to swear it on the Madonna
that stands in thy room." And the Capataz laughed a little in response
to the grins of the crowd.

She pouted--very pretty--a little uneasy.

"No, I will not ask for that. I can see love in your eyes." She laid
her hand on his knee. "Why are you trembling like this? From love?" she
continued, while the cavernous thundering of the gombo went on without a
pause. "But if you love her as much as that, you must give your Paquita
a gold-mounted rosary of beads for the neck of her Madonna."

"No," said Nostromo, looking into her uplifted, begging eyes, which
suddenly turned stony with surprise.