Helena's spirit began to lift, the dread to ease its compression on her bosom. She looked Don Abrahan in the eyes, a flush enlivening her pale cheeks.
"In what way has my son forfeited his claim upon your respect, my love?"
"I told you last night."
"Rumors may easily grow into slanders between here and the capital," Don Abrahan said, in stern reproval. "If we are to credit all our suspicions, believe all we hear, accept every small circumstance as damning evidence, we will soon drive happiness and tranquility out of our lives. Who of us is pure in all things? Who has not transgressed?"
"The source of my information cannot be impeached," Helena replied. "If you have called this solemn court to try me, Don Abrahan, you have exceeded any and all authority that I grant to your position and your years. I am free, I am in my right mind. I will not marry Roberto. You cannot force me to it, even with your valiant son guarding the door!"
"The small frivolities, the mild indiscretions—all this the world grants a man in his youth, Helena. It is different with a man."
"Let it pass; there will be many ready to accept the defense. As for me, I cannot, Don Abrahan."
"It is strange that you should come to this conclusion at this late hour, Helena. There was no word of it before the last day of the fiesta."
"Two days after I left your house, Don Abrahan, letters came from my friends in the capital. But I doubt, even without the things revealed to me——"
"Lies, slanders," said Don Abrahan, disdain in the swelling of his nostrils, the rocking of his head. "Have I not been young? It is the fashion to slander such."