"Yes, yes!"
"He is in love with her. He wanted to make her his wife. Therefore he kept her from the soldiery."
In his eagerness the Viceroy reined in his horse, and the officers and men, even the soldiers, stopped also and crowded around the narrator.
"Did he—did he—O Holy Mother have pity upon me!" groaned the Viceroy.
"He did her no violence save to kiss her, while I was by."
"And you suffered it!" shouted de Tobar, beside himself with rage.
"What did she then?" asked the old man, waving his hand for silence.
"She struck him in the face again and again with her riding-whip. I was bound, señors. I broke my bonds, struck down one of the guards, wrested a sword from another, and sprang to defend her. But they overpowered me. Indeed, they seized the lady and swore to kill her unless I dropped my weapon."
"Death," cried de Lara, "would have been perhaps a fitting end for her. What more?"
"We were conveyed into the city after the sack. He insulted her again with his compliments and propositions. He sent a slave to fetch her, but, bound as I was, I sprang upon him and beat him down."