Let loose my hands. I am weary to death of this everlasting
talk of freedom. I think indeed that the Americans know
but two words: freedom and dollars. Ring for Rachela. She,
at least, is faithful to me."
"Not till you kiss me, mother. Do not send me away unblessed
and unloved. That is to doom me to misfortune. Mi madre,
I beg this favor from you." He had risen, but he still held
her hands, and he was weeping as innocent young men are not
ashamed to weep.
If she had looked at him! Oh, if she had but once looked at
his face, she could not have resisted its beauty, its sorrow,
its imploration! But she would not look. She drew her hands
angrily away from him. She turned her back upon her suppliant
son and imperiously summoned Rachela.
"Good-by, mi madre."
"Good-by, mi madre!"
She would not turn to him, or answer him a word.
"Mi madre, here comes Rachela! Say `God bless you, Juan.' It
is my last word, sweet mother!"
She neither moved nor spoke. The next moment Rachela
entered, and the wretched woman abandoned herself to her care
with vehement sobs and complainings.
Jack was inexpressibly sorrowful. He went into the garden,
hoping in its silence and solitude to find some relief. He
loved his mother with his strongest affection. Every one of
her sobs wrung his heart.
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