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"
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
.
"
No
?
Then
what
else
will
your
worship
give
me
on
the
day
of
the
fiesta
?
"
she
asked
,
angrily
;
"
so
as
not
to
shame
me
before
all
these
people
.
"
