I will be always good to you,
indeed--even when you're bad-humored. Please don't die." And then I sobbed
with such violence that my father, fearing that such conduct would cut even
shorter that parting life upon the bed, asked Teresa to take me away.
But Catalina said, "Let her alone, father. It really does me good to see
her cry. I never dreamed that Lisita had any heart at all. But I see now
that it has been all my fault. If I had only been a bit better-tempered
with her, she would have shown me a little more affection. Rosa, give me a
little water, please." And Rosa placed a teaspoonful of water between the
lips of our poor sister.
"Are you quite bad, my daughter?" asked my father.
For some minutes, Catalina could not reply, but finally she said, "Lisita,
don't cry any more, please. Now, listen."
I tried to calm myself.
"We need to ask each other's pardon, my poor little sister," she said.
"Now kiss me. Tell me that you forgive me."
"Oh, yes, indeed, I do forgive you," I answered, "from the bottom of my
heart. It is I who have been wicked, whereas you have been so very, very
sick, while I enjoy such good health."
"Yes, that's true," said Catalina, "but I'm older, and I should have shown
you a better example.
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