The Indian listened to these words without a muscle of his face quivering.
"I expected this outburst," he said calmly; "but you will reflect; I repeat that I love your daughter, and intend her to be mine."
"Never," the two ladies exclaimed desperately.
"At that price alone," he continued stoically, "you will be free; if not, prepare for death."
"Yes, yes," Doña Emilia burst forth passionately, "yes, we will die, but both by our own will. Ah! You feel very certain of the success of your odious plot, but you have calculated badly, villain; the death with which you threaten us, we invoke as the supreme refuge left us. You are masters of our life, but not of our death. We defy you."
The Indian burst into a laugh.
"Look at your vial," he said, in his calm, cutting tone, "it no longer contains any acid. Yesterday some harmless soporifics were mixed with your food, and, during your sleep, you were robbed of the formidable weapon in which you had trusted rather too prematurely. Believe me, madam, you had better yield. I give you eight days to reflect; it would be easy for me to carry off your daughter, but I prefer receiving her voluntarily from you."
He accompanied these remarks with a mocking laugh, and left the room, without waiting for an answer, which the two unhappy women could not have given him, so annihilated were they by the frightful revelation which had just been made to them.