“I could not be his wife, except in name, but I can die!” she said. “Only a thrust of the dagger after the ceremony! The blood of the Pulidos tells me to do that!”
“I command you—entreat you—”
“Can I see you die?” she asked. “And, if I refuse, there will be nothing except death for me as well as for you. For Ramón will try, then, to make me his by force.”
“Better to die in defense of your honor, señorita, than have your fair name linked with his even for a moment!” Señor Zorro declared. “I demand that you refuse to do this thing! Ah, señorita, all hope is not gone! They have taken my sword, and they have bound my hands, but I am not helpless entirely. The spirit of Zorro still burns in my breast! Given but a little time, and I’ll win through!”
“Diego!”
“If we could work for time—” he said.
“Perhaps I can hold him off for an hour,” she whispered. “But no longer than that, I am sure. And—there may be a way. I have thought of something!”
“What is it?”
“Whisper,” she commanded. “I am sure that they are listening outside the window. Pretend that all is agreed between us. Let me embrace you!”
Barbados and Captain Ramón not only were listening, but also they were peering through the window. And they saw her go up close to him, press against him, saw her arms go around him, as though in a last embrace. But her back was toward the window, and they could not see all.