A gesture from the rascal cooled his anger.
“Take care,” said Torres, “your wife knows not that she is the wife of Joam Dacosta, your children do not know they are the children of Joam Dacosta, and you are not going to give them the information.”
Joam Garral stopped himself. He regained his usual command over himself, and his features recovered their habitual calm.
“This discussion has lasted long enough,” said he, moving toward the door, “and I know what there is left for me to do.”
“Take care, Joam Garral!” said Torres, for the last time, for he could scarcely believe that his ignoble attempt at extortion had collapsed.
Joam Garral made him no answer. He threw back the door which opened under the veranda, made a sign to Torres to follow him, and they advanced toward the center of the jangada, where the family were assembled.
Benito, Manoel, and all of them, under a feeling of deep anxiety, had risen. They could see that the bearing of Torres was still menacing, and that the fire of anger still shone in his eyes.
In extraordinary contrast, Joam Garral was master of himself, and almost smiling.
Both of them stopped before Yaquita and her people. Not one dared to say a word to them.
It was Torres who, in a hollow voice, and with his customary impudence, broke the painful silence.