“And you will let me die?”
“Under my frowns.”
“I will make a vow to the devil to gild his horns, if one day he will carry off Luis de Haro.”
“Wish him evil! the wishes of the envious fatten.”
Raphael rose up furiously.
“I know what is the matter with you, Raphael,” said a young girl, before whom he passed, to him in a languishing tone.
This new speaker had arrived from Madrid.
The journey had completely modernized her. Reading French novels was her incessant occupation. She professed for the world a kind of worship; she adored music, and looked with contempt on all that was Spanish.
“What, then, is the matter with me?”
“A deception,” murmured Eloise.