He spoke in Spanish. And Kate glanced up sharply through her tears, to see him going quietly, but swiftly, away.
She wiped her face, suddenly calm. Then she looked with wet eyes at Cipriano. He was standing erect and alert, like a little fighting male, and his eyes glowed black and uncannily as he met her wet, limpid glance.
Yes, she was a bit afraid of him too, with his inhuman black eyes.
"You don't want me to go, do you?" she pleaded.
A slow, almost foolish smile came over his face, and his body was slightly convulsed. Then came his soft-tongued Indian speech, as if all his mouth were soft, saying in Spanish, but with the "r" sound almost lost:
"Yo! Yo!"—his eyebrows lifted with queer mock surprise, and a little convulsion went through his body again. "Te quiero mucho! Mucho te quiero! Mucho! Mucho! I like you very much! Very much"
It sounded so soft, so soft-tongued, of the soft, wet, hot blood, that she shivered a little.
"You won't let me go!" she said to him.
