will, enslaving that of
others, and allowing her own to be taken captive by none, has fallen
into your treacherous snares. Your hypocritical sanctity was, doubtless,
the lure you employed. With your theologies and your pious humbugs you
have acted like the wily and cruel sportsman, who attracts to him by his
whistle the silly thrushes, only to strangle them in the net."

"Antonona," returned Don Luis, "leave me in peace. For God's sake,
cease to torture me! I am a villain; I confess it. I ought not to have
looked at your mistress; I ought not to have allowed her to believe that
I loved her; but I loved her, and I love her still, with my whole heart;
and I have given her no other potion or philter than the love I have for
her. It is my duty, nevertheless, to cast away, to forget this love. God
commands me to do so. Do you imagine that the sacrifice I make will not
be--is not already--a tremendous one? Pepita ought to arm herself with
fortitude and make a similar sacrifice."

"You do not give even that consolation to the unhappy creature," replied
Antonona. "You sacrifice voluntarily, on the altar, this woman who loves
you, who is already yours--your victim. But she--what claim has she on
you that she should offer you up as a sacrifice? What is the precious
jewel she is going to renounce, what the beautiful ornament she is going
to cast into the flames, but an ill-requited love? How is she going to
give to God what she does not possess? Is she going to try to cheat God,
and say to him: 'My God, since he does not love me, here he is; I offer
him up to you; I will not love him either.' God never laughs--if he did,
he would laugh at such a present as that!"

Don Luis, confounded, did not know what answer to return to these
arguments of Antonona, more atrocious than her former pinches. Besides,
it was repugnant to him to discuss the metaphysics of love with a
servant.

"Let us leave aside," he said, "these idle discussions. I can not cure
the malady of your mistress. What would you have me do?"

"What would I have you do?" replied Antonona, more gently, and with
insinuating accents; "I will tell you what I would have you do. If you
can not cure the malady of my mistress, you should, at least, alleviate
it a little. Are you not saintly? Well, the saints are compassionate,
and courageous besides. Don't run away like an ill-mannered coward,
without saying good-by. Come to see my mistress, who is sick. Do this
work of mercy.