"No! no! no! don't ask me to do it—"
"Come, you old darling,[25] do this favor for me. You don't know how bad I shall feel if you don't do it. I shall believe that you have ceased to love me."
Maria exhausted all the resources of her genius to convince her. She sat on her lap and overwhelmed her with caresses; she fondled her, now getting vexed, now entreating her, and always fixing her eyes upon her in a wheedling way impossible to resist. She was like a child asking for a forbidden toy. When she saw that her maid was softening a little, or rather was very tired of refusing, she said, with fascinating volubility:—
"Truly, tonta, don't believe that it is a thing of such great consequence. A bad toothache is much worse, and you know that I have had them often enough. Your imagination makes you think that it is terrible, when in reality it is a trifling thing. It all comes from the fact that it isn't done nowadays because virtue is vanished from the world, but in the good old times of religion it was a common, every-day occurrence, and no one who claimed to be a good Christian failed to perform this penance. Come, make up your mind to grant me this favor, and at the same time to do a good work.—Wait a moment, I will find what we need—"
And running to the bureau, she opened a drawer, and took out a scourge, a genuine scourge, with round wooden handle and leather cords. Then, all excited and nervous, with her cheeks on fire, she brought it to Genoveva, and thrust it into her hand. She took it mechanically, without knowing what she did. She was perfectly stupefied. The girl began to caress her again, encouraging her with persuasive accents; but she did not answer a word. Then the Señorita de Elorza, with trembling hand, began to unloose the blue silk dress which she wore. On her face glowed the excited, anxious joy of a caprice about to be gratified. Her eyes shone with unwonted light, hinting at keen, mysterious joys; her lips were dry, as one athirst; the violet circle around her eyes was larger than usual, and bright crimson spots burned in her cheeks. She breathed excitedly through her nostrils, which were more than ordinarily dilated. Her white, aristocratic hands, with their slender fingers and rosy nails, loosed with strange haste the buttons of her dress. With a quick movement she freed herself from it.
"You shall see; I have on only my chemise and underwaist. I am all ready."
In truth, she took off, or rather tore off, her underwaist and a skirt or two, and was left only in her chemise. She stood an instant, glanced at the instrument in Genoveva's hand, and over her body ran a tremor of chill, of pleasure, of anguish, of terror, and of eagerness, all at once. In a low voice, changed by emotion, she said, "Papa must not know this."
And her linen chemise slipped down on her body, catching for an instant on her hips, and then falling slowly to the floor. She was now entirely naked. Genoveva looked at her with ecstatic eyes, and the girl felt somewhat abashed.
"You won't be angry with me, Genovita?" she asked, smiling.
The serving woman could only say,—