till you do!"

Dona Consolacion did not care to be kicked, but she planned revenge.

The dark face of the Senora never had inspired confidence in anybody,
not even when she painted it. That morning she was exceptionally
uneasy, and as she walked from one end of the sala to the other, in
silence and as if meditating something terrible, her eyes shone like
those of a serpent about to be crushed. Her look was cold, luminous,
and penetrating and had something vicious, loathsome and cruel in it.

The slightest defect in anything, the most insignificant or unusual
noise brought forth an obscene and infamous expression; but no one
responded. To offer an excuse was a crime.

So the day passed. Encountering no obstacle in her way--her husband
had been invited out--she became saturated with bile.

Everything around bent itself before her. She met no resistance,
there was nothing upon which she could discharge the vials of her
wrath. Soldiers and servants crawled before her.

That she might not hear the rejoicing going on outside, she ordered
the windows to be closed, and charged the sentry not to permit any
one to enter. She tied a handkerchief around her head to prevent
it from bursting; and, in spite of the fact that the sun was still
shining brightly, she ordered the lamps lighted.

A madwoman who had been detained for disturbing the public peace was
taken to the barracks. The alferez was not there at the time and the
unhappy woman had to pass the night seated on a bench. The following
day the alferez returned. Fearing lest the unhappy woman should become
the butt of the crowd during the fiesta, he ordered the soldiers who
were guarding her to treat her with pity and give her something to
eat. Thus the demented woman passed two days.

Whether the proximity to Captain Tiago's house made it possible for
the sad song of Maria Clara to reach her ears, whether other strains
of music awoke in her memories of old songs, or whether there was
some other cause for it, at any rate, the madwoman began that night
to sing with a sweet and melancholy voice the songs of her youth. The
soldiers heard her and kept silent. Those songs brought back memories
of the old times.

Dona Consolacion also heard it in her sorrow, and became interested
in the person who was singing.

"Tell her to come upstairs at once!" she ordered, after some seconds
of meditation. Something like a smile passed over her dry lips.

They brought the woman and