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Page:Vagabond life in Mexico.djvu/298

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296
THE SPIRIT OF THE MURDERED MAN.

"Yes, a mere suchil flower may sometimes work miracles," said I, interrupting him.

"What!" cried Jarocho, "have you the gift of seeing what no one else has seen?"

"I only observed what every body else might have seen, had they chose; but when a man receives a flower from the hand of a girl he loves, he needn't, I think, despair."

"Thank Heaven!" cried the Jarocho, cheerfully. "Yet," he added, with a sigh, "this is not the first token I have had from her; to-morrow the illusions of this night may be dispelled. Ever since ña Sacramenta came to live at Manantial I have suffered the utmost tortures of anxiety, and yet vengeance has not been done on my cousin's murderer. I have tried to forget that duty; unluckily, there are others who do not. The dead man's mother reminds me every day of the charge which has devolved upon me. Eight days ago I met the old woman. I wished to avoid her, but it was impossible. She is looked upon as a sort of witch by the people around. On passing me she cried out, 'The dead have better memories than the living.' I asked her what she meant, although I knew full well. 'You will see him to-night,' she replied. In truth, that very evening," Calros continued, in an altered voice, "I was seated at the same place where we now are, Señor Cavalier; the door was open, and my thoughts were engaged about nothing in particular. I was only listening to the voices in the trees and on the wind; a pale white mist was creeping up to the sky, as it is doing now. All at once a cloud came between my eyes and the stars; it took a human form, and the dead man was before me! I saw him distinctly, right in front of me. I closed my eyes,