"Ho, is that the matter?" said Rita coolly.
"And kill my poor daughter--"
"That will do," interrupted Rita, "there is where the shoe pinches; because Ventura does not want to marry a spectre, that to go out has to ask permission of the gravedigger, I must answer for it. And for no other reason than because he is gay and likes better to jest with one who is cheerful like me than to drink herb-tea with her, can I help it?"
Anna allowed Rita to conclude, her countenance showing no alteration except a mortal paleness.
"Rita," she said, when the latter had finished, "a woman cannot be false to her marriage vows with impunity."
"What are you saying!" exclaimed Rita, springing to her feet and throwing away her work, her cheeks and eyes on fire. "What have you said, madam? I fake to my marriage vows? To that which your eyes did not see you have brought in your hand! I false! I! You have always borne me ill-will, like a mother-in-law in fact, and a bad mother-in-law, but I never knew before that the saint-eaters bore such testimony."
"I do not say that you are so," replied Anna, in the same grave and moderate tone which she had observed from the beginning, "but that you are in the way, that you are going to be false if God does not prevent it by opening your eyes."
"Now, as formerly, and always a prophetess, Jonah in person, and" (she added between her teeth) "may the whale swallow you also."
"Yes, Rita, yes," said Anna, "and I have come--"
"To threaten me?" asked Rita, with an air of bold defiance.