"I do not dare."
"Then don't tell her, and you and I will have done with each other. Better so," returned the girl with impatience.
"For God's sake, don't speak like that, Ventura! I shall think you don't love me. You must understand that my position is awkward, strange, and terrible. To be on the eve of marrying an excellent girl; then without any quarrel whatever, without any warning of any kind, to suddenly say to her: 'It is all over. I can not marry you because I do not love you, and I never have loved you,' is the most brutal and hateful thing that has ever been known. Besides, I don't know how your parents will take my behavior. It is most probable that, justly indignant on her behalf, they will load me with reproaches and forbid me the house."
"Very well; marry her—and go in peace!" said Venturita, turning somewhat pale.
"That I'll never do. I marry you, or nobody."
"Then what are we to do?"
"I don't know," returned the youth, hanging his head in distress.
Both remained silent for some seconds. Then Venturita, placing her hand on his head, said:
"Think it over, man; think it over."