Stephen had, of course, counted on Letitia’s opening the door in her curiosity. A few great leaps, and he was beside her. Esmeralda, who was in the plot, had at once faced Letitia and prevented her from locking the door. White with rage, and with raised fist, he stormed across the threshold. She fell to her knees, and hid her face in her hands.
“Why do you beat me?” she moaned, in horror and surprise. But he did not touch her.
His teeth gnashed. “To teach you to obey.”
She sobbed. “Be careful! It’s not only me you’re hurting now!”
“Damnation, what are you saying?” He stared at her crouching figure.
“You’re hurting two now.” Letitia enjoyed fooling him. Her tears were now tears of pity for herself.
“Woman, is that true?” he asked. Letitia peered furtively between her fingers, and thought mockingly: “It’s like the last act of a cheap opera.” She nodded with a gesture of pain, and determined to deceive him with the naval officer.
Stephen gave a howl of triumph, danced about, threw himself down beside her, and kissed her arms, her shoulders, and her neck. At the windows and doors appeared Doña Barbara, Esmeralda, Stephen’s brothers, and the servants. He lifted Letitia on his strong shoulders, and carried her about on the verandah. He roared his orders: a feast was to be prepared, an ox slaughtered, champagne to be put on ice.
Letitia had no qualms of conscience. She was glad to have made a fool of him.
When old Gunderam learned the cause of the rejoicing in his house, he chuckled to himself. “Fooled all the same, my sly lawyer man. In spite of the written agreement, you won’t get the Escurial, not for a good while, even if she has a whole litter.” With an unappetizing, broken little comb he smoothed his iron grey beard, and poured eau de Cologne on his head, until his hair, which was still thick, dripped.