"Ah!" he replied, bitterly, "is that you? I wondered I had not seen you before."
"It is strange, is it not?" she replied. "Well, we are once more face to face."
"Like a hyena, the odour of blood attracts you."
"Who—I, Don Tadeo? You mistake my character strangely. No, no; am I not your wife—the woman whom you loved so much?"
Don Tadeo shrugged his shoulders with an expression of disgust.
"You ought to be grateful for what I do," she replied.
"Listen to me," said Don Tadeo, "your insults can never rise to the height of my contempt. Do, act, speak, insult me, invent the most atrocious calumnies your infernal genius can inspire, I will not answer you! Concentrated in myself, your insults, like a vain sound, will strike my ear without my mind making the least effort to understand them."
"Oh!" she cried, "I know well how to compel you to listen to me, my beloved husband. You men are all alike! You arrogate to yourselves all the rights, as you have done all the virtues! We are contemptible beings, creatures without heart; condemned to be your very humble servants, and to endure, with a smile upon our lips, all the insults you please to heap upon us! It was I who was always wrong; you are right; it was I who stole your child from you, was it not?"
At the end of a minute she resumed—
"Come, let there be no feigning between us; let us speak for the last time openly. You are the prisoner of your most implacable enemy; the most frightful tortures await you. In a few instants, perhaps, the punishment which threatens you will fall like a thunderbolt upon your proud head. Well, I can enable you to escape this punishment; that life, which you now reckon only by seconds, I can restore to you, happy, long, and glorious! In a word, I can with one sentence, one gesture, one sign, restore you to liberty immediately! I only ask one thing of you—I mistake, not a thing, a word—utter that word, Don Tadeo, where is my daughter?"