When Carmelita clearly understood the purport of this remarkable speech she put her arms around the Bucking Bronco's neck.
"Dear Signor Orso Americano," she whispered. "Humiliate him to the dust before his comrades, bring him grovelling to my feet, begging me to marry him—and I will be your wife.… Blind, blind, unnameable fool that I have been—to think this dog a god and you a rough barbarian.… Forgive me, Signor.… I could kill myself."
The Bucking Bronco folded the woman in his arms. Suddenly she struggled free, thrust him from her, and, falling into a chair, buried her face in her arms and burst into tears. Standing over her the Bucking Bronco awkwardly patted her back with his huge hand.
"Do yew good, ma gel," he murmured over and over again. "Nuth'n like a good cry for a woman.… Git it over naow, and by'n-by show a smilin' face an' a proud one fer Loojey Rivoli to see fer the las' time."
"The bambino," wailed the girl. "The bambino."
"What?" exclaimed the Bucking Bronco.
Rising, the girl looked the man in the face and painfully but bravely stammered out what had been her so-wonderful Secret, and the hope of her life.
The Bucking Bronco again folded Carmelita in his arms.
