But, at a word from Perez, the apprentice closed and bolted the doors, so that the soldiers were delayed by battering them in. Before they could enter, the Marana had time to strike her dagger into the guilty man; but anger hindered her aim, the blade slipped upon the Italian’s epaulet, though she struck her blow with such force that he fell at the very feet of Juana, who took no notice of him. The Marana sprang upon him, and this time, resolved not to miss her prey, she caught him by the throat.
“I am free and I will marry her! I swear it, by God, by my mother, by all there is most sacred in the world; I am a bachelor; I will marry her, on my honor!”
And he bit the arm of the courtesan.
“Mother,” said Juana, “kill him. He is so base that I will not have him for my husband, were he ten times as beautiful.”
“Ah! I recognize my daughter!” cried the mother.
“What is all this?” demanded the quartermaster, entering the room.
“They are murdering me,” cried Montefiore, “on account of this girl; she says I am her lover. She inveigled me into a trap, and they are forcing me to marry her—”
“And you reject her?” cried Diard, struck with the splendid beauty which contempt, hatred, and indignation had given to the girl, already so beautiful. “Then you are hard to please. If she wants a husband I am ready to marry her. Put up your weapons; there is no trouble here.”
The Marana pulled the Italian to the side of her daughter’s bed and said to him, in a low voice,—
“If I spare you, give thanks for the rest of your life; but, remember this, if your tongue ever injures my daughter you will see me again. Go!—How much ‘dot’ do you give her?” she continued, going up to Perez.