“The half of your fortune?” exclaimed Torres; “agreed, on condition that Minha brings it to me at her marriage.”
“And it is thus that you respect the wishes of a dying man, of a criminal tortured by remorse, and who has charge you to repair as much as he could the evil which he had done?”
“It is thus.”
“Once more, Torres,” said Joam Garral, “you are a consummate scoundrel.”
“Be it so.”
“And as I am not a criminal we were not made to understand one another.”
“And your refuse?”
“I refuse.”
“It will be your ruin, then, Joam Garral. Everything accuses you in the proceedings that have already taken place. You are condemned to death, and you know, in sentences for crimes of that nature, the government is forbidden the right of commuting the penalty. Denounced, you are taken; taken, you are executed. And I will denounce you.”
Master as he was of himself, Joam could stand it no longer. He was about to rush on Torres.