She had no one in the world who loved her disinterestedly, no one except the master, and with the panicky haste of a traveler who is lost at night, in the midst of a desert, she had run to him, seeking warmth and protection.
This longing for protection came back to her in the master's presence. She went to him again, clinging to him, sobbing in hysteric fear, as if she were surrounded by dangers.
"Master, you are all I have; you are my life! You won't ever leave me, will you? You will always be my brother?"
Renovales, bewildered at the unexpectedness of this scene, at the submission of that woman who had always repelled him and now suddenly clung to him, unable to stand unless her arms were clasped about his neck, tried to free himself from her arms.
After the first surprise, the old coldness came over him. He was irritated at this proud despair that was another's work.
The woman he had longed for, the woman of his dreams came to him, seemed to give herself to him with hysteric sobs, eager to overwhelm him, perhaps without realizing what she was doing in the thoughtlessness of her abnormal state; but he pushed her back, with sudden terror, hesitating and timid in the face of the deed, pained that the realization of his dreams came, not voluntarily but under the influence of disappointment and desertion.
Concha pressed close to him, eager to feel the protection of his powerful body.
"Master! My friend! You won't leave me! You are so good!"
And closing her eyes that no longer wept, she kissed his strong neck, and looked up with her eyes still moist, seeking his face in the shadow. They could hardly see each other; the room was dim with mysterious twilight,—all its objects indistinct as in a dream, the dangerous hour that had attracted them for the first time in the seclusion of the studio.
Suddenly she drew away in terror, fleeing from him, taking refuge in the gloom, pursued by his eager hands.