“And where can you find this money?” he asked.
“What does it matter to you?”
Bazilio shook his head with a gesture of despair, and taking her hands in his, said, repressing his impatience,—
“We are talking nonsense and losing our tempers, my dear; you have no money.”
“Very well,” she cried, catching him by the arm; “speak you to this woman, and settle the matter with her; I will not see her. If I were to see her it would kill me. Speak you to her.”
Bazilio drew back quickly, and stamping his foot, said, “Are you mad? If I were to speak to her she would try to fleece me. This is your affair. I will give you the money, and you can arrange the matter with her.”
“You are not willing to do even that?”
“No, a thousand devils, no!” cried Bazilio, unable to control himself longer.
“Good-by.”
“Are you mad, Luiza?”