The Senora--and, observe, whatever kindness she does to Catalina speaks
secretly from two hearts, her own and Juana's--had, by the advice of
Mr. President Mendonia, given sufficient money for Catalina's
travelling expenses. So far well. But Mr. M. chose to add a little
codicil to this bequest of the Senora's, never suggested by her or by
her daughter. 'Pray,' said this inquisitive President, who surely might
have found business enough in La Plata, 'Pray, Senor Pietro Diaz, did
you ever live at Concepcion? And were you ever acquainted there with
Senor Miguel de Erauso? That man, Sir, was my friend.' What a pity that
on this occasion Catalina could not venture to be candid! What a
capital speech it would have made to say--'_Friend_ were you? I
think you could hardly be _that_, with seven hundred miles between
you. But that man was _my_ friend also; and, secondly, my brother.
True it is I killed him. But if you happen to know that this was by
pure mistake in the dark, what an old rogue you must be to throw
_that_ in my teeth, which is the affliction of my life!' Again,
however, as so often in the same circumstances, Catalina thought that
it would cause more ruin than it could heal to be candid; and, indeed,
if she were really _P.
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