"My object in coming here," said the baron, who was fast losing his aplomb, "was to warn you, was to beg you—as I have been told you have had the charity to take this foundling—to continue the good work by protecting, sheltering and educating her, and when it is necessary to punish her will you do so with kindness, for the poor little creature is delicate and weak, and the blows might put an end to her life."
"Is this all you have to say to me?" asked the lady, coldly.
The dreadful face of the baron contorted suddenly on hearing this question; his eyes flashed, the deep wound stood out on his face by reason, no doubt, of his great internal emotion. Formidable sounds were heard in his throat, low rumblings presaged a coming storm. But those noises finally calmed down, the signs of disturbance ceased, and instead of the crater giving forth, as it was feared, a stream of burning lava, rocks, and ashes, it only weakly emitted the two words:
"Yes, señora."
"Very well, then. I take this opportunity of bidding you welcome to the house in the name of Quiñones and myself."
At the same time she pulled the bell rope and rose from her seat. The baron also rose muttering words of thanks and proffers of service.
"Pepe, take the señor baron down."
He made a profound reverence, which Amalia returned in a lesser degree, and the gentleman turned on his heels and left. As he descended the staircase quite nonplussed, his face on fire, and his eyes aflame, it was a great relief to think of the drawing and quartering, the loss of eyes, the horse's tail and other fearful punishments of the Visigoth epoch, to which the señora belonged by virtue of her barbarous behaviour and her cruel, arrogant spirit.
CHAPTER XIII
THE MARTYRDOM