"What hurry is there at this moment, Don Torribio?" she asked. "Are you not sure of me?"
"Ever the same vague and obscure answer," the chief said with a frown. "Child, you are playing with a lion, and I see to the bottom of your heart. Imprudent girl, you are rushing on your own destruction; but no, you are in my power; and after saving your life ten times, I offer you half a throne. Tomorrow, madam, you will and must marry me. Your father's and Don Sylvio's heads will answer for your obedience."
And seizing a crystal bottle full of limpid water, he filled his glass to the brim, and emptied it at a draught, while Doña Concha gazed at him fixedly; this look contained a cruel and concealed joy.
"In an hour," he added as he placed the glass on the table again, "you will be present at the ceremony by my side; I insist on it."
"I will be there," she replied.
"Farewell, madam."
The young lady rose quickly, seized the bottle, and walked up to the window.
"What are you going to do there?" Don Valentine asked.
"I am watering my flowers, father."
While pouring out the water, Concha, whose eye sparkled with a gloomy fire, muttered to herself—