"Will you tell me, Santos," said I, "that Demetria sent you to say
this to me? Does she think that only by marrying her I can deliver her
from this robber and save her property?"
"There is, of course, no other way," said he. "If it could be done by
other means, would she not have spoken last night and explained
everything to you? Consider, senor, all this large property will be
yours. If you do not like this department, then she will sell everything
for you to buy an _estancia_ elsewhere, or to do whatever you
wish. And I ask you this, senor, could any man marry a better woman?"
"No," said I; "but, Santos, I cannot marry your mistress."
I remembered then, sadly enough, that I had told her next to nothing
about myself. Seeing me so young, wandering homeless about the country,
she had naturally taken me for a single man; and, perhaps thinking
that I had conceived an affection for her, had been driven in her
despair to make this proposal. Poor Demetria, was there to be no
deliverance for her after all!
"Friend," said Santos, dropping the ceremonious senor in his anxiety
to serve his mistress, "never speak without first considering all
things. There is no woman like her. If you do not love her now you
will love her when you know her better; no good man could help feeling
affection for her. You saw her last evening in a green silk dress,
also wearing a tortoise-shell comb and gold ornaments--was she not
elegant, senor? Did she not then appear to your eyes a woman suitable
for a wife? You have been everywhere, and have seen many women, and
perhaps in some distant place you have met one more beautiful than my
mistress.
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