at me apprehensively, as I thought,
before she confirmed the previous answer by a slow inclination of her
head.

Had he allowed himself to make a provoking movement, a dubious gesture
of any sort, I would have flung myself upon him at once; but the
nonchalant manner in which he looked away, while he extended to me his
hand with the candlestick, amazed me. I simply took it from him. He
stepped back, with a ceremonious bow for Seraphina. La Chica ran up
close to her elbow. I heard her voice saying sadly, "You need fear
nothing for yourself, child"; and they moved away slowly. I remained
facing O'Brien, with a vague notion of protecting their retreat.

This time it was I who was holding the light before his face. It was
calm and colourless; his eyes were fixed on the ground reflectively,
with the appearance of profound and quiet absorption. But suddenly I
perceived the convulsive clutch of his hand on the skirt of his coat. It
was as if accidentally I had looked inside the man--upon the strength of
his illusions, on his desire, on his passion. Now he will fly at me,
I thought, with a tremendously convincing certitude. Now------All my
muscles, stiffening, answered the appeal of that thought of battle.

He said, "Won't you give me that light?"

And I understood he demanded a surrender.

"I would see you die first where you stand," was my answer.

This object in my hand had become endowed with moral
meaning--significant, like a symbol--only to be torn from me with my
life.

He lifted his head; the light twinkled in his eyes. "Oh, _I_ won't die,"
he said, with that bizarre suggestion of humour in his face, in his
subdued voice. "But it is a small thing; and you are young; it may be
yet worth your while to try and please me--this time."

Before I could answer, Seraphina, from some little distance, called out
hurriedly:

"Don Juan, your arm."

Her voice, sounding a little unsteady, made me forget O'Brien, and,
turning my back on him, I ran up to her. She needed my support; and
before us La Chica tottered and stumbled along with the lights, moaning:

"_Madre de Dios!_ What will become of us now! Oh, what will become of us
now!"

"You know what he had asked me to let him do," Seraphina talked rapidly.
"I made answer, 'No; give the light to my cousin.' Then he said, 'Do you
really wish it, Senorita? I am the older friend.' I repeated, 'Give the
light to my cousin, Senor.' He, then, cruelly, 'For the young man's own