Meanwhile Don Mario had resumed his singing.

Day was breaking when Esteban Varona bade his guests good-by at
the door of his house. As he stood there Sebastian came to him out
of the mists of the dawn. The old man had been waiting for hours.
He was half crazed from apprehension, and now cast himself prone
before his master, begging for Evangelina.

Don Pablo, in whom the liquor was dying, cursed impatiently:
"Caramba! Have I won the treasure of your whole establishment?" he
inquired. "Perhaps you value this wench at more than a thousand
pesos; if so, you will say that I cheated you."

"No! She's only an ordinary girl. My wife doesn't like her, and so
I determined to get rid of her. She is yours, fairly enough,"
Varona told him.

"Then send her to my house. I'll breed her to Salvador, my
cochero. He's the strongest man I have."

Sebastian uttered a strangled cry and rose to his feet. "Master!
You must not--"

"Silence!" ordered Esteban. Wine never agreed with him, and this
morning its effects, combined with his losses at gambling, had put
him in a nasty temper. "Go about your business. What do you mean
by this, anyhow?" he shouted.

But Sebastian, dazed of mind and sick of soul, went on, unheeding.