"No,ñaltaMartayMarí my daughter; you have done nothing that needs my forgiveness; you have done what God commanded.... It made me ill ... that is true ... but it is because I have not virtue enough, as you have, to suffer the trials God imposes upon us.... You are a saint.... I shall be well.... Don't worry about me.... What frightens me now is, that I did not die when I saw you marching off that way, among soldiers.... My poor daughter.... Come, give me a kiss!"
When Maria entered the bedroom, Ricardo and Marta were there; the girl seated near the pillow, and Ricardo at the foot of the bed. The young marquis, on learning at the factory that Maria was arrested, had asked the colonel to be relieved that night of guard duty, and his request being granted, he hastened to the Elorza mansion just as Don Mariano and his daughter were outside of the town. Doña Gertrudis was in the midst of a very severe fit, from which it was feared that she would not recover; she came to herself but only to fall immediately into another. What an anxious night! Don Maximo and the Señora de Ciudad remained with poor little Marta to watch by the sick woman. Ricardo likewise was unwilling to leave the house. The girl appreciating that her mother's health and life depended on her behavior, kept up her courage, and did not cease to busy herself about the bed, entering and leaving the room hundreds of times. As soon as Don Maximo gave an order she fulfilled it with admirable exactness. A multitude of remedies requiring much skill and some practice were taken: mustard poultices, leeches, assafoetida washes, various applications to the temples, etc., etc. Marta would not consent for any servant to touch her mother; she did everything herself without bustle, without noise, as though all her life she had done nothing else. During the intervals of rest she sat by the bedside and watched the invalid's face with anxious eyes. The bedroom was feebly lighted by a lamp half turned down in the hall; a strong smell of drugs and medicines arose from the vials accumulated on the dressing-table; but Marta was not nauseated by any of the odors; her head was steady and her never-failing health was the envy of all the household. Ricardo likewise sometimes sat at the invalid's feet. The girl scarcely saw more than his silhouette outlined against the brighter opening of the door, but this was a great comfort to her. She was not alone; Ricardo was not a stranger. Sometimes when the invalid asked for something and both arose in haste to give it to her, if their hands met, Marta withdrew hers hurriedly, as though she had touched a viper, and she let her friend minister to Doña Gertrudis. Neither spoke. Marta, forgetful of herself, thought only of her mother. Ricardo, more egotistical, thought of Maria. The girl's whole soul was wrapped up in the dear being painfully breathing by her side, and without making the slightest error, with the accuracy of a chronometer, she counted her pulse and watched her respiration. Don Maximo and the Señora de Ciudad were whispering in the adjoining room, as though they were making confession. The lady was explaining to the old doctor the character and temperament of each one of her daughters; the conversation was long. In the course of nine hours the sick woman had four severe attacks, leaving her so prostrated that the doctor seriously feared a fatal result. Nevertheless, after the fourth, she remained comparatively comfortable, and passed the day quite easily. The danger, in spite of this, continued.