Summary

Portrait of Gustave Aimard Gustave Aimard The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico

Don Valentine, do you forgive me?"
"General Don Sebastian Guerrero, I forgive you the murder of my friend," the hunter answered, in a firm voice. "I forgive you the life of grief to which I am henceforth condemned by you."
"You pardon me unreservedly?"
"Unreservedly I do."
"Thanks! We were made to love instead of hate each other. I misunderstood you; but yours is a great and noble heart. Now, let death come, and I shall accept it gladly; for I feel convinced that God will have pity on me on account of my sincere repentance. Be happy, niece, with the husband of your choice.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Gustave Aimard Gustave Aimard The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico

The general tried to rush after him, but the Indians restrained him, and, in spite of his resistance, compelled him to stop.
Don Sebastian, who was the more overwhelmed by the last blow because it was unexpected, stood for a moment like a man struck by lightning, with pendant arms and seared eyes. At last a heartrending sob burst from his bosom, two burning tears sprung from his eyes, and he rolled like a corpse on the ground.
The very Indians, those rough warriors to whom pity is a thing unknown, felt moved by this frightful despair, and several of them turned away not to witness it.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Gustave Aimard Gustave Aimard The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico

I am awaiting your proposal, Don Valentine. I allow, señor, that you, whose miraculous resuscitation I have hitherto denied, are alive, and are really Don Martial the ex-lover of Doña Anita de Torrés. As for you, señor, whom I do not know, I authorize you to declare before any one you like the truth of the words I utter. Are you all three satisfied, gentlemen? Is there anything else I can do to afford you pleasure?—if so, speak, and I am ready to satisfy you."
"A man could not yield to what is inevitable with better grace," Valentine replied, bowing ironically.
Source: Gutenberg

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