e, she
would doubtless have obeyed, frightened. His right foot was kicking at
the sand, as though the falsehood were a loathsome worm to be ground
under his heel. His arm was doubled up and his fist was clenched. Words
seemed to come choking from his throat.

"You rag of a woman! And don't everybody know who you are? A back-biter,
a cheap gossip, and a trouble-maker. You hate Dolores! You'd do anything
to hurt her! You've driven my poor brother to the dogs with your beastly
temper! And now you would dirty the reputation of Dolores! And she's a
saint! A saint, do you hear! And a woman like you isn't good enough to
kiss the bottom of her shoe, you snake! And now, get out of here, and do
it quick, damn quick! Get out of here, or I'll kill you like a rat!"

But Rosario stood there impassively. The calm determination in her did
not shrink before those insults and those menacing fists.

"Pascualo, Dolores is not being true to you," she repeated slowly, and
with despairing firmness. "She is making a fool of you. And the man ...
is ... Tonet!"

The Rector stiffened in speechless fury! And his brother she would bring
in too, in that low-down spiteful jealousy of hers!

"Get out of here, I say! Get out of here, Rosario, or I'll kill you as
sure as ever you were born!" And he meant it, this time. He had seized
her by the two wrists, squeezing them till the bones seemed ready to
break, and he threw her around on her heels. But in sudden fear, she
wrenched loose, and sidled away, to a safe distance, muttering and
protesting. She was not a liar, nor a jealous gossip. She had meant to
do him a favor. Keep him from looking like a fool to the town. But if he
was satisfied, why should any one else care? He could go on being the
happy cuckold, and joy go with him. And she made off, on the run,
throwing back, in insolent mockery, the epithets that had been rained on
Pascualo the day the _Mayflower_ put to sea: "Steer, hornpate,
_llanut_!"

The Rector, his arms folded, stood looking after her till she was out of
sight in the dark. Then a sense of duty well done came over his
unsuspecting innocence. "Well, did you ever see anything like that? God,
imagine being married to her! Poor Tonet! Swallows everything she hears,
and tries to use it to get even! But I guess she got all she wanted from
me! That will teach her to come tale-bearing another time. God, what a
wench!" And puffing with self-righteousness, he resumed his walk,
scarcely