The girl started to the ground in unfeigned surprise.
“Why, papa! he is old enough to be my grandfather, and besides, he is ugly enough to—”
“He is just the age of thy father, Ysabel. His years will serve to guide thy wayward ones. He is all that is brave and noble, besides being one of the richest, and most powerful lords in Spain. You may know, Belle, how well I think of him—he is almost the only one of my many friends, that I admit into this our wild retreat.”
“But, papa—”
“Nay, Belle, I will have no buts. It must be as I say.”
“But, papa.” The Count’s brow darkened. “But, papa, I do not love him.”
“Love—pah!”
“Papa, I cannot love him.”
“Pah!”
“Papa, I will not love him!” and the Doña’s eyes grew bright and large.