“It is I,” she said; “Donna Elisa, it is I—”
The words would not come to her lips. She wrung her hands in despair that she could not speak.
Donna Elisa was instantly at her side. She put her arm about her to support her, without paying any attention to Donna Micaela’s attempt to push her away.
“You must forgive me, Donna Elisa,” she said, with an almost inaudible voice. “I did it.”
Donna Elisa did not heed much what she was saying. She saw that she had fever, and thought that she was delirious.
Donna Micaela’s lips worked; she plainly wished to say something, but only a few words were audible. It was impossible to understand what she meant. “Against him, as against my father,” she said, over and over. And then she said something about bringing misfortune on all who loved her.
Donna Elisa had got her down on a chair, and Donna Micaela sat there and kissed her old, wrinkled hands, and asked her to forgive her what she had done.
Yes, of course, of course, Donna Elisa forgave her.
Donna Micaela looked her sharply in the face with great, feverish eyes, and asked if it were true.
It was really true.