“A tart, Senhor Counsellor?” interrupted Luiza.
“I have finished, dear lady. Come, Jorge, are you not of my opinion?”
“I, Senhor Counsellor?” responded Jorge, putting his hands in his pockets. “By no means. I am for her death,—most decidedly!”
“Ah, then—”
“I am for her death,” repeated Jorge, with animation; “and I demand that you kill her,” he added, turning to Ernesto.
“Let him talk, Senhor Ledesma,” interposed Donna Felicidade, quickly; “he is jesting,—he, who has the disposition of an angel!” she added, appealing with a smile to the others.
“You deceive yourself, Donna Felicidade,” said Jorge, standing before her. “I speak in all seriousness. I am a very tiger!”
Every one laughed.
“If she has deceived her husband,” he continued in severe accents, “I am of the opinion that she should be put to death. Could I consent, in a case like this, that a member of my family, a cousin of mine, one of my own blood, should allow himself to be carried away by pity, like a fool? No!” And turning to Ernesto, “Kill her! It is a tradition of the family. Kill her at once!”
“Here is a pencil,” said Julião, offering one to Ernesto.