But Olì did rebel.
"Look," he said after a long silence; "you'll stay here till I've settled my affairs. Aunt Grathia will buy you new clothes——"
Her voice, suffering but still fresh and clear, rang out.
"I don't want anything."
"How do you mean?" he asked, arresting his step by the fire.
"I'm not going to stay."
"What?" he cried, turning round, his eyes wide, his fist clenched.
Ah! then it was not all done! She dared—why did she dare? Ah! then she didn't understand that her son had suffered and struggled all his life to attain one end; namely, to take her away from her life of vagabondage and sin, even if he must sacrifice his whole future to do it! How could she dare to rebel? How could she wish to escape? Had she no comprehension of her position, of his determination?
"What do you mean?" he said restraining his anger. He stood to listen, shivering, agitated, driving his nails into his palms, his face working. Aunt Grathia watched, ready to defend Olì if he attempted to strike her. The three wild creatures had drawn together by the hearth, and among them rose the blue and hissing flame of a firebrand. It seemed a live thing. Olì roused herself.
"Listen," she said, "and don't get angry, for anger will be useless. The evil is done and nothing can remedy it. You may kill me, but you won't get any good by that. The only thing you can do is to let me alone. I can't stay here. I'll go away and you'll never hear more of me. You must imagine you've never seen me."