"Do you know what she said to me at the last—at the last, uncle?"
"I neither know nor care," said Escobeda. "Hand me the knife."
"My mother told me," said Raquel, still polishing the blade and changing its direction so that the point was held towards Escobeda—"my mother told me to keep this little thing always at hand. It has always been with me. You do not know how many times I have had the thought to turn it upon you"—Escobeda started and paled—"when your cruelties have been worse than usual. Sometimes at night I have thought of creeping, creeping along the hall there, and going to the side of your bed—"
"You murderess!" shouted Escobeda. "So you would do that, would you? It is time that you came under the restraint that you will find over there in the government town. Do you hear? Give me the knife. It was like that she-dev—"
"I can hear quite well with it in my hand," said Raquel. "You may say whatever comes into your head, only about my mother. That I will not bear. Speak of her gently, I warn you—I warn you—"
"Do you know who the man was who came to me just now?"
"The Señor Silencio?" said Raquel, breathless, her eyes flashing with a thousand lights.
"No, it was not the Señor Silencio." Raquel's eyelids drooped. "But it was the next thing to it. It was that villain, Rotiro. I could have bought him, as well as Silencio. A little rum and a few pesos, and he is mine body and soul. But I do not want him. I have followers in plenty—"
"Those who follow you for love?" said Raquel, with sly malice in her tone.
Escobeda flashed a dark and hateful look upon her.