Hours passed. After the feast had come the ball. Maria's candle had burned out, and she lay in the moonlight at the foot of the statue. She had not moved. Little by little the house became quiet. Aunt Isabel came to knock once again at the door.
"She must have gone to bed," the old lady called back to her brother. "At her age one sleeps like the dead."
When all was still again, Maria rose slowly, and looked out on the terrace with its vines bathed in the white moonlight.
"A peaceful future!--Sleep like the dead!" she said aloud; and she went out.
The city was mute; only now and then a carriage could be heard crossing the wooden bridge. The girl raised her eyes toward the sky; then slowly she took off her rings, the pendants in her ears, the comb and jewelled pins in her hair, and put them on the balustrade of the terrace; then she looked toward the river.
A little bark, loaded with zacate, drew up to the landing-place below the terrace. One of the two men in it climbed the stone steps, sprang over the wall, and in a moment was mounting the stairway of the terrace. At sight of Maria, he stopped, then approached slowly.
"Crisóstomo!" she said, speaking low. She was terrified.
"Yes, I am Crisóstomo," replied the young man gravely. "An enemy, a man who has reason to hate me, Elias, has rescued me from the prison where my friends put me."
A sad silence followed his words. Maria Clara bent her head. Ibarra went on:
"By the dead body of my mother, I pledged myself, whatever my future, to try to make you happy. I have risked all that remains to me, to come and fulfil that promise. Chance lets me speak to you, Maria; we shall never see each other again. You are young now; some day your conscience may upbraid you. Before I go away forever, I have come to say that I forgive you. Be happy--farewell!" And he began to move away; she held him back.
"Crisóstomo!" she said, "God has sent you to save me from despair. Listen and judge me!"
"I did not come to call you to account; I came to bring you peace."
"I want none of the peace you bring me. I shall find peace for myself. You scorn me and your scorn will make even death bitter."
He saw despair in her poor, young face, and asked what she wished.