“I don’t believe in a man’s sacrificing himself in this way,” said Kate. “And I don’t.”
Teresa still looked her full in the eyes.
“Ah!” she said. “He doesn’t sacrifice himself. He feels he must do as he does. And if he must, I must help him.”
“But then you are sacrificing yourself to him, and I don’t believe in that either,” said Kate.
“Oh, no!” replied Teresa quickly, and a little flush burned in her cheek, and her dark eyes flashed. “I am not sacrificing myself to Ramón. If I can give him—sleep—when he needs it—that is not sacrifice. It is—” She did not finish, but her eyes flashed, and the flush burned darker.
“It is love, I know,” said Kate. “But it exhausts you too.”
“It is not simply love,” flashed Teresa proudly. “I might have loved more than one man: many men are lovable. But Ramón!—My soul is with Ramón.”—The tears rose to her eyes. “I do not want to talk about it,” she said, rising. “But you must not touch me there, and judge me.”
She hurried out of the room, leaving Kate somewhat dismayed. Kate sighed, thinking of going home.
But in an hour Teresa appeared again, putting her cool, soft, snake-like little hand on Kate’s arm.
“I am sorry if I was rude,” she said.