Then, with a quickness which showed that she was accustomed to doing without a maid, she began to take off her ear-rings, bracelets, pins, and clasps, carefully placing them on the glass tray, with the deftness which always characterized her purely mechanical movements. Then, raising her arms, she began to take out her hair-pins, one by one. I gazed upon that splendid ornament of a woman, her loosened hair, in all its beauty. Uncoiled, it fell in heavy, black waves down to her knees. A painful restlessness took possession of me. That loosening of the hair seemed to me a prelude to other freedoms of the toilet, which I was about to witness; and the mere thought made my blood boil in distressing fury. Fortunately—and I could have given thanks on my bended knees for that—I perceived that she had loosened her hair only to make herself more comfortable, for she simply combed it out and gathered up the whole mass in a loose knot. After this, she leaned her elbow on the table, rested her cheek on the palm of her hand, compressing her lips and slightly moving her head up and down, like one struggling with perplexing thoughts. I noticed a painful contraction in her face; she had the appearance of one who when she finds herself alone, abandons herself to meditation, and allows the countenance to express the feelings of the heart. Her eyes partly closed; she bowed her head on her breast, let her hands fall into her lap, and—I clearly heard it—she sighed, a deep sigh, drawn from the depths of her heart. Then she raised her head, and remained for some moments with her eyes fixed on empty space. Suddenly she breathed heavily, and rose like one who adopts a firm and decided resolution. And just at that moment—
Oh, I will not look, I do not want to see! A man entered the room, stealthily, with a beaming face, but yet with somewhat irresolute and constrained bearing. If my eyes had had the power of a basilisk’s, the bridegroom would have dropped down dead, annihilated by my look. The silhouette of the deicide stood out against the window frame, and I saw the gleam of his white shirt-front. The light fell full on his face, more repulsive than ever; on his copper-colored beard; his hard eyes, which I could have torn from their sockets.
I heard a silly and mocking laugh behind me. I turned, arose, and saw the acolyte crouched down, looking through another crack in the floor. He still held in his hand the razor with which he had widened it.
A murderous impulse ran through my veins, and, trembling with rage, I clutched Serafín by the throat, choking him while I cried:
“I will cut you in bits, I will strangle you this minute, if you dare to look again. Do you hear, you toad? It will be the worse for you if you dare to peep through that crack again. I’ll kill you without a shadow of remorse!”
“But, you were peeping, too—nuts and old Nick!” squeaked the poor youth, still hiccoughing, after he had somewhat recovered his breath. “What a way you have! The old Nick! You have driven your fingers through my throat!”
“I shall not look any more—nor you, either. We were both brutes. If we had any decency, we should not have thought of looking. Serafín, we are not beasts—we are men! No, you shall not look again.”
“Now you are crying—you are half crazy, I declare!” exclaimed the theological apprentice.
“You are the one who is crazy and possessed with the devil,” I answered, making a heroic attempt to repress the senseless tears which were burning between my eye-lids. “I am not crying; but if I did, it would be out of shame for having kneeled down there. I am going to bed; but as I am not sure that you will not get down again on all fours, I shall tie you to the bed-post.”
“Don’t do it, Salustio, don’t,” cried the terrified rebel. “Don’t tie me! I give you my word of honor not to look.”