“The fact is that, in Spain, men of a certain stamp are never put into prison even if they deserve it. This horrible revelation might easily heap disgrace....”
“On others?”
“Yes, and on one whom you truly love and could not bear to injure. Burn them all, Pepa, for God’s sake.” The poor woman pressed her hand tightly to her eyes to check her tears. But with a fresh flash of her unquenchable spirit, she took up the packet and replaced it in the Chamber of Horrors, which she locked, saying:
“I will burn them at another time.” Then turning to Leon she said in a low voice:
“Then I can do nothing legally to incapacitate my husband?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it impossible that I should take legal measures against him?”
“Impossible. I understand now your father’s hesitancy, his weak submission, which is neither more nor less than fear—the fear of going to law with an enemy who has been his accomplice. It is altogether out of the question, my dearest.”
“Quite, quite.—Why should we try to find crooked ways of escape? My friend, my lover—husband—all in all, the only soul to which my soul is kin, dare as much as I can dare!” she exclaimed with that fervid courage which sometimes made her so beautiful. “The straight and easy way lies before us, the only way: Flight. The carriage is waiting; there is nothing to stop us, we want nothing. You are rich—I am even richer—everything favours us, urges us to act....”