“It’s maddening,” she replied, pushing her damp blond hair from her brow, “but there seems to be none to be had!”
The Señora smiled archly. “Quite true; there are none. It seems a shame that so young and so charming a señorita should be distressed. I am lonely!” she exclaimed. “It is not,”—she shrugged her shoulders—“the pleasantest living in the world with Raoul. If he could become more human—if he would find something to take his black thoughts off himself, and off me! Would you believe it, Señorita, he keeps me a close prisoner—me who am but thirty-eight? Many women marry, and have lovers still, very suitably, at my age. Always he makes life hell by demanding, ‘Why did you do it?’ Why indeed! It would be well for him to see that it is not easy to resist. His father was a cavalier. You can see it in Raoul, who is so tall and strong and beautiful, as you are. Raoul is of a higher race.
“Come to live with me in the convento, and I will give you every comfort. Things must be made easier for me, Señorita; truly they must. I should love Raoul to go through purgatory—to learn that outside his breviary there is a heaven and a hell.”
Julie stood turning color under a mixture of violent emotions. This impossible and monstrously unconcerned woman actually expected an answer to her unthinkable proposal. But even in the midst of suffocating emotions, Julie remembered that she must be careful of giving offense to so powerful a person. “It is inconceivable!” she exclaimed, drawing away.
“But why, Señorita? You like men. There are always many around you. It was so too with me. Make Raoul eat the dust!” Her face set into passionate lines of hatred.
Julie stared dumbfounded at the woman who claimed her as a sister spirit. “This is horrible,” she breathed.
“My son says you are beautiful, but that you are evil. The other señorita, he says, is too old for sin. You see that he is very harsh.”
Julie was trembling now. “Señora,” she said, “it is too much.” She hurried back to her jungle room, clenching her hands, and letting the angry tears flow.
That afternoon, Maria Tectos, the Old Maid of Guindulman, one of the most noteworthy personages of the village, not only as the possessor of considerable wealth but as the acknowledged leader among the women, hailed Julie as the girl trudged by. She offered Julie a room in her large house, which was the best and most unique mansion in the town.
It was distinctly a compliment, Julie understood, to be invited to join this exclusive household. The Old Maid had been to a school in Manila; moreover, with her ultra-modern, tremendous, iron-gray pompadour shaking always like a tower with her laughter, she would be a jolly companion. She believed, so she was always averring to Julie, in the complete freedom of her sex; and she was constantly stirring the women up to one thing or another; but this feministic progressiveness unfortunately carried along with it the conservatism of old age. The exactions the Old Maid imposed would leave Julie none of that liberty the Old Maid extolled. Julie could see her young men friends only under the Old Maid’s eye; and it became clear that everything would be done to discourage altogether their foolish visits. The Old Maid pointed out her own successful single, elderly state as a contrast to that of her companions.