Antinahuel went out, after darting at the young girl a look which made her cast down her eyes. Left alone with Rosario, the Linda examined her for an instant with such an expression of malignant hatred, that the poor girl felt herself tremble. The sight of this woman produced upon her the strange effect attributed to the look of the serpent; she felt herself fascinated by the cold glance of the green eyes that were fixed upon her in a manner which she could not endure. After a few minutes the Linda said, in a cutting voice—
"Poor girl! Although you have been nearly a month a prisoner, can you at all divine what induced me to have carried you off?"
"I do not comprehend you, señora," the young lady replied, mildly; "your words are enigmas to me; I in vain endeavour to discover their meaning."
"Oh! poor, innocent thing!" the courtesan replied, with a mocking laugh; "and yet I fancy that on the night we were face to face at the village of San Miguel, I spoke to you pretty plainly."
"All it was possible for me to understand, señora, was, that you hate me."
"As the fact exists, of what importance is the reason? Yes, I hate you, insignificant thing! But I do not even know you! While avenging myself upon you, it is not you I hate; but the man who loves you; whose heart is broken at your tears! But the torments I reserve for you are nothing, if he is ignorant of them."
"God is just, señora," the maiden replied, firmly. "I do not know what crimes you meditate, but He will watch over me."
"God! miserable, puny creature!" cried the Linda. "God is but a word; He does not exist."
"He will not fail me, señora," Doña Rosario replied. "Beware! lest soon bowed by His powerful hand, you, in your turn, may implore His mercy in vain."
"Begone, miserable child; your threats only inspire me with contempt."