Pepe Vera had come and placed himself behind her; he laid hold of her arm violently, and said to her a second time—
“I do not wish you to sing.”
Vanquished by her grief, Maria seated herself on a chair, and wept.
Pepe had disappeared.
“What is it? what has happened?” asked those who were present.
“I feel ill,” answered Maria, who continued to weep.
“What is the matter, señora?” asked the director, who had been informed of what had occurred.
“It is nothing,” said Maria, rising, and drying her tears. “It is already passed. I am ready. Come!”
Pepe Vera, pale as a corpse, then came and interposed between the director and the artist.
“This is cruelty,” said he, with an imperturbable calmness, “to force on to the stage a woman who can hardly support herself.