“Ah!” said Ramón. “Take care! A little mercy is a dangerous thing.”
“No! Not mercy!” she said, flushing. “Why are you being horrid to me?”
“Monkeys always end by being horrid to the spectators,” said Ramón.
She looked up at him, and caught the flash of anger in his eyes.
“I came,” she said, “to hear about the Mexican pantheon. I was even given to understand I might be admitted.”
“Ah, that is good!” laughed Ramón. “A rare specimen of the female monkey has been added to the Ramón menagerie! I am sure you would be a good draw. There have been some pretty goddesses, I assure you, in the Aztec pantheon.”
“How horrid!” she said.
“Come! Come!” he cried. “Let us keep to the bedrock of things, Señora mia. We are all monkeys. Monos somos.—Ihr seid alle Affen! Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings was it spoken, as Carlota said. You see that little male monkey, Cipriano. He had the monkey’s idea of marrying you. Say the word. Marriage is a monkey’s game. Say the word. He will let you go when you’ve had enough; and he’s had enough. He is a general and a very great jefe. He can make you monkey-queen of monkey-Mexico, if it please you. And what should monkeys do, but amuse themselves! Vamos! Embobemonos! Shall I be priest? Vamos! Vamos!”
He rose with sudden volcanic violence, and rushed away.
Cipriano looked at Kate in wonder. She had gone pale.