“For the last time, Joam Garral,” he said, “I ask you for a last reply!”
“And here is my reply.”
And addressing his wife:
“Yaquita,” he said, “peculiar circumstances oblige me to alter what we have formerly decided as to the marriage of Minha and Manoel.”
“At last!” exclaimed Torres.
Joam Garral, without answering him, shot at the adventurer a glance of the deepest scorn.
But at the words Manoel had felt his heart beat as if it would break. The girl arose, ashy pale, as if she would seek shelter by the side of her mother. Yaquita opened her arms to protect, to defend her.
“Father,” said Benito, who had placed himself between Joam Garral and Torres, “what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say,” answered Joam Garral, raising his voice, “that to wait for our arrival in Para for the wedding of Minha and Manoel is to wait too long. The marriage will take place here, not later than to-morrow, on the jangada, with the aid of Padre Passanha, if, after a conversation I am about to have with Manoel, he agrees with me to defer it no longer.”
“Ah, father, father!” exclaimed the young man.