"Well, listen to me: you are aware that I have only been a few months in Mexico, but what you know only vaguely is the motive that brought me to this country."
"I fancy I was told you had come here with the intention of marrying your cousin, doña Dolores de la Cruz."
"That is true: but what you do not know is the way in which this marriage was arranged, and the motives that prevent me from breaking it off."
"Ah!" said Dominique.
"I will be brief: know then that while still a child, by the conditions of a family compact I was betrothed to my cousin doña Dolores, of whose existence even I was ignorant. When I became a man, my parents called on me to fulfil this engagement, which they had made in my name without consulting me. In spite of the very natural repugnance I felt for this strange union with a woman whom I did not know, I was compelled to obey. I quitted with regret the happy careless life I was leading in Paris among my friends, and embarked for Mexico. Don Andrés de la Cruz received me on my arrival with the liveliest joy, overwhelmed me with the most delicate attentions, and introduced me to his daughter, my betrothed. Doña Dolores received me coldly, even more than coldly: evidently she was no more satisfied than myself with the union she was forced to contract with a stranger, and felt hurt at the right her father had thus arrogated of disposing of her hand without consulting her, or even warning her; for doña Dolores, as I learned afterwards, was perfectly ignorant of the compact concluded between the two branches of our family. As for myself, delighted at the cool reception which I received from the woman I was destined to marry, I hoped that possibly this union might not be completed. Doña, Dolores is very beautiful, as you are aware."
"Ah, yes," Dominique muttered.
"Her character is charming, her mind cultivated—in a word, she combines all the graces and seductive attractions which make an accomplished woman."
"Oh, yes," Dominique repeated; "all that you are saying is perfectly true."
"Well, I cannot love her, the feeling is stronger than I am; and yet duty—duty forces me to marry her, for doña Dolores has suddenly become an orphan. She is almost ruined, and surrendered defenselessly to her brother's hatred: betrothed to her against my will, it is true, but very really betrothed, honour orders me to carry out this union, the last wish of her dying father; and yet I love—"
"What do you say?" Dominique exclaimed in a panting voice.