At these words, uttered with an accent of cutting irony, don Antonio fell back a step, and his face, was covered with an earthy paleness.
"I do not understand you," he said in a voice which he strove in vain to render firm, but which trembled.
"Do you not recognize me, don Horacio?" doña María then said in a soft voice; "Has grief so completely altered my features that it is possible for you to deny that I am the unhappy wife of the brother whom you assassinated?"
"What means this farce?" don Antonio exclaimed violently. "This woman is mad! And you, scoundrel, who dare to play with me, take care!"
The man to whom these words were addressed only replied by a laugh of contempt, raising his voice.
"You wish for witnesses to what is going to take place here, caballero? I presume you consider there are not enough of us to hear what is going to be said. Well, I consent; come out of your hiding places, señores; and you, caballeros, come."
At the same instant the tapestry was raised, the door opened, and some twenty persons entered the room.
"Ah! You are calling witnesses!" don Antonio said in a mocking voice. "Well, then, your blood be on your own head!" And turning to his men standing behind him, he shouted, "Upon these scoundrels; kill them like dogs!" and he leaped on a brace of revolvers which were laid on a table within reach.
But no one stirred.
"Down with their masks," the person who had alone spoken hitherto said, "they are unnecessary now. We must speak to this gentleman with uncovered faces."