The marquis could find nothing to answer.
Doña Laura had thrown herself on the ground, a prey to profound despair. Her horse was the only one that had not been killed.
"You are about to die," said Don Roque.
"I hope so," answered she, with a low and broken voice.
"You thoroughly hate me, then?"
"There is not in my heart place for hatred; I despise you."
"Doña Laura," he pursued, "there is yet time. Reveal to me your secret."
"Why should I do so?" she said.
"Curses!" cried he, stamping with rage. "This woman is a demon. Will nothing, then, convince you? Of what use to you now would be the possession of that secret?"
"And to you?" she coldly asked.