"I beg of you, come!" urged Agueda.
"Oh, cousin! What will become of us? Why does that girl fear the storm so?"
"There will be no storm, vida mia, and if there is, has not the casa stood these many years? Agueda knows that as well as I."
Agueda withdrew a little, she stood irresolute. She heard the sound of horses' feet, she heard Uncle Adan calling to her. She heard Don Noé calling to Eduardo Juan to bring a light, and not be so damned long about it. Old Juana called, "'Gueda, 'Gueda, honey! come! Deyse deat' in de air! 'Gueda!"
There was a sudden rush of hoofs across the potrero, and then the despairing wail from Palandrez, "Dey has stampeded!" She heard without hearing. She remembered afterward, during that last night that she was to inhabit the casa, that all these sounds had passed across almost unheeding ears. She ran again to Don Beltran.
"Come! Come, Beltran, dear Beltran," she said. "The river is upon us!"
She wrung her hands helplessly. It seemed to her as if Beltran had lost his power of reasoning.
"How dare she call you Beltran?" said Felisa.
There came a crash which almost drowned the sound of her voice, then a scream from Felisa, intense and shrill. Agueda heard Beltran's voice, first in anger, then soothing the terrified girl again, shouting for horses, and above it all, she heard the water topple over the embankment, and the swash of the waves against the foundations of the casa.
She ran hurriedly and brought the lantern which hung within the comidor. When Felisa opened her eyes, and looked around her at the waste of waters, she shrieked again.