"These ladies have been made prisoners by me, and by me also conducted into this town."
"You could even add—into this convent, Señor; but continue."
"You are wrong in supposing, Madame, that I am the enemy of these unfortunate women; no one, on the contrary, interests himself more than I do in their fate."
"Ah!" said she, with irony.
"You do not believe me, Madame; indeed, appearances condemn me."
"Meanwhile, you condemn these unhappy ladies; is it not so, caballero?"
"Señora," he cried, with violence, but immediately controlling himself, "pardon me this outburst, Madame; but if you consent to understand me—"
"Is not that what I am doing at this moment, Señor?"
"Yes; you listen to me, it is true, Madame; but with your mind made up, beforehand, not to put faith in my words, however true they may be."
The abbess slightly shrugged her shoulders, and resumed: "It is, Señor, that you now tell me things which are so incredible. How can you expect, when you yourself have just admitted that you arrested these ladies, when it would have been so easy to allow them to continue their journey; that it is you who brought them into this town; that it is you who also brought them to this convent, in order to deprive them of all hope of flight—how can you expect that I should credit the professions of devotion of which you are now pleased to make a parade before me? It would be more than artlessness on my part, you must admit, and you Would have a right to believe me to be what I am not—that is to say, to speak frankly, a fool."