Although the Countess of Rionuevo, Tito’s terrible enemy, plays so odious a part in our story, she was not an old and ugly woman, as many will perhaps have imagined. Physical nature is also sometimes deceptive.
This illustrious woman was, at this time, but thirty-five years of age, and in the fulness of a magnificent beauty—tall, active and well formed; her eyes, blue and treacherous as the sea, concealed great depths under a languid and suave manner. The frankness of her mouth, the soft tint of her skin, and the queenly grace of her bearing, proved that neither sorrow nor passion had perceptibly diminished her incomparable beauty. Thus it was that on seeing her now, stricken and suffering, overcome by terror, and racked with pain, the least compassionate would have experienced a peculiar pity, closely akin to horror or fear. Though Tito thoroughly hated the woman, he could not avoid this inexplicable feeling of sympathy and dread, and, mechanically taking the beautiful hand which she tendered him he whispered with more sorrow than resentment,
“Do you know me, Countess?”
“Save me!” replied the dying woman, not heeding his question.
At this moment another person emerged noiselessly from behind the curtains, and joined the two speakers, half reclining on the pillow and supporting his head on his hand.
It was Death!
“Save me!” repeated the Countess, who felt intuitively that our hero hated her; “they say you are a magician, that you commune with Death. Save me!”
“You fear death greatly, Countess!” responded the youth with indifference, at the same time releasing her hand.
That stupid cowardice, that animal terror, which left no room for any other thought or sensation, disgusted Tito profoundly, for it showed him the wretchedly selfish spirit of the author of all his troubles.
“Countess!” he then exclaimed, “think of your past and of your future! Think of God and of your neighbor! Try to save the soul, since the body is no longer yours.”