“I turn you out!”
“I will go away, then.”
“Still less. I will teach you a daughter’s duty, which you have forgotten.”
“I will fly, then; he will take me with him!”
“Has he told you to do so? has he counselled you to do that? has he commanded you to do that?” asked the mother, launching these words like thunderbolts against her daughter.
“He has counselled me to do it. We have agreed to be married. We must be married, mamma, dear mamma. I will love you—I know that I ought to love you—I shall be forever lost if I do not love you.”
She wrung her hands, and falling on her knees kissed her mother’s feet.
“Rosario, Rosario!” cried Doña Perfecta, in a terrible voice, “rise!”
There was a short pause.
“This man—has he written to you?”