"The vow is registered in heaven," confirmed Father Rocus.
"Absolve her!" demanded the don, fairly beside himself with chagrin at this sudden turn that threatened to frustrate all his designs.
"Peace, peace," soothed the padre. "I will consider the matter with prayer and meditation."
"Satanas!" cried Don Pedro, turning upon me in a rage. "But for you, she would not have vowed! Go!—"
"Nada!" I rejoined. "You said I could bid her farewell. I hold you to your word as a gentleman."
He turned on his heel, and strode over to stand beside Father Rocus, doubtless fearful that he could not otherwise restrain himself from attacking me.
"Be quick!" urged Doña Marguerite.
Alisanda took the rosary from about her white throat and held it out to me. Her voice kept to the same clear, brave note: "Adieu, my Juan! We part. You are not a Christian, I know, yet as a sign for the guidance of your faith, I give you this golden symbol—la vera cruz!"
As her dear hand placed the cross in my palm, my love and despair burst all bounds. Forgetful of all else, I caught her to me and pressed my lips to hers in passionate grief. But in a moment she was torn from me by Don Pedro, who carried her off, half fainting, from the room. I would have followed had not Doña Marguerite and Father Rocus clung to me on either side and implored me to leave before the return of Don Pedro.
Half stupefied with despair, I permitted them to lead me to the stairway, where Doña Marguerite sobbed out an "Adios!" and turned back. The padre hurried me down the stairway and out into the street, where, after a hasty benediction, he hastened back to pacify the violence of Don Pedro.