“No, you will not.”
The lady was fractiously eager; she felt as though she could not breathe freely till she had sent the arrow home to her friend’s heart.
“But I assure you I will,” she said, with dilated nostrils, sparkling eyes and a mounting colour.
“In matters that concern my family the decision must be left to them.”
“Oh! I have a voice too in matters which concern your family,” said the marquesa with an impertinent accent on the words “your family.”
“Never, with my consent,” retorted Gustavo, repressing his indignation. He was pale, and his whole expression was that of a man who had worries of his own. Pilar raised her voice.
“Our friend here—the father of his country—tells me that he cannot make his speech to-morrow on the subject of article twenty-two.” There was a murmur of dissatisfaction. “The president has allowed him to exchange his turn.”
“When will it be then?”
“This sad business of his sister’s,” she went on, looking at Gustavo with assumed sympathy. “Has been too much for his brain.”
Gustavo went across to where his mother was sitting.