“Yes—I wanted to tell you,” stammered the girl, “I wanted to say——Nothing, nothing, I will go to sleep.”
“Rosario, Rosario! your mother can read your heart like an open book,” exclaimed Doña Perfecta with severity. “You are agitated. I have told you already that I am willing to pardon you if you will repent; if you are a good and sensible girl.”
“Why, am I not good? Ah, mamma, mamma! I am dying!”
Rosario burst into a flood of bitter and disconsolate tears.
“What are these tears about?” said her mother, embracing her. “If they are tears of repentance, blessed be they.”
“I don’t repent, I can’t repent!” cried the girl, in a burst of sublime despair.
She lifted her head and in her face was depicted a sudden inspired strength. Her hair fell in disorder over her shoulders. Never was there seen a more beautiful image of a rebellious angel.
“What is this? Have you lost your senses?” said Doña Perfecta, laying both her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.
“I am going away, I am going away!” said the girl, with the exaltation of delirium.
And she sprang out of bed.