“I,” said he, “I will not kill them. I will die.”
The duke began to suspect the truth, and an involuntary trembling shook his limbs.
“Maria?” cried he.
“Maria,” said Stein, without raising his head, as if the infamy of his wife pressed on him with all its weight.
“You surprised them?” asked the duke, scarcely able to articulate these words, his voice was so stifled with indignation.
“In a veritable orgie, as gross as licentious: in an atmosphere of wine and tobacco, and where Pepe Vera, the matador, boasted of being her lover. O Maria! Maria!” he continued, letting his head fall on his hands.
The duke, like all energetic men, had great command over himself; he was immediately calm, and replied with but one word to Stein—
“Go!”
Stein rose, pressed in his hands those of the duke. He desired to speak, but his sobs prevented.
The duke opened his arms.