"Well, there it is," returned the girl in a scornful tone.
"Then it shall not be," said Doña Paula angrily, as she rose from her seat. "What do you suggest? Come, say; or rather, what have you suggested?"
"You can imagine."
"To marry each other, eh?" she asked in a sarcastic tone. "Then you are greatly mistaken! The marriage of your sister is broken off—Well, it is as good as broken off—Of course, you are free to marry Gonzalo, but don't you think you will set foot in this house. In the first place, you are a bad girl who ought to pay for your grimacings; and in any case your father and I will not consent to your marrying a man who has treated your sister so disgracefully and deceived us all round. People would indeed say that we were dying to have him for a son-in-law, so give up the idea, child."
"Well, if you like it or not," said Venturita, flouncing to the door, "I shall marry him."
Doña Paula felt inclined to punish this insolence with corporal punishment, but the girl quickly left the room and shut the door; then half reopening it, she said in furious tone:
"I will marry him; I will marry him; I will marry him."
The following day Gonzalo received a letter from Ventura in which she said:
"Yesterday I spoke to mama, and I think she will give in. Keep your spirits up."
And in effect, that same morning mother and daughter renewed the conversation in the daughter's room. It was a long interview, and we do not know what transpired, but at the end of an hour Doña Paula appeared with her eyes red with weeping and her hand on her heart, from which she frequently suffered, and retiring to her room she went to bed.