“I tell you that my father adores you,” said Sebastian, who believed that the woman was in the wrong from the way his father had forbidden him ever to mention her name.
Her hands holding the speaker’s relaxed but he did not notice this, as he continued:
“I will prepare him to greet you; I will tell him all the happiness you give me; one of these days, I will take you by the hand and lead you to him, saying: ‘Here she is, father—look, how handsome she is!'”
Repulsing Sebastian, she sprang up.
“Never,” repeated she, while he stared with astounded eyes for she was so white as to alarm him. This time her accent expressed a threat rather than fright.
She recoiled on the lounge; in that face he had seen the hard lines which Raphael gives to irritated angels.
“Why do you refuse to receive my father?” he demanded, in a sullen voice.
At these words, the lightning burst as at the contact of two clouds.
“Why? do you ask me why? well, never shall you know.”
“Still, I ask why,” said Sebastian, with firmness.