how his aunt the consideration to which her sex, her rank, and her
relation to himself entitled her. He was on the verge of a violent
outbreak, and a force that he could not resist was impelling him against
his interlocutor.

"I came to Orbajosa," he said, "because you sent for me; you arranged
with my father--"

"Yes, yes; it is true," she answered, interrupting him quickly and
making an effort to recover her habitual serenity. "I do not deny it. I
am the one who is really to blame. I am to blame for your ill-humor, for
the slights you put upon us, for every thing disagreeable that has been
happening in my house since you entered it."

"I am glad that you are conscious of it."

"In exchange, you are a saint. Must I also go down on my knees to your
grace and ask your pardon?"

"Senora," said Pepe Rey gravely, laying down his knife and fork, "I
entreat you not to mock me in so pitiless a manner. I cannot meet you
on equal ground. All I have said is that I came to Orbajosa at your
invitation."

"And it is true. Your father and I arranged that you should marry
Rosario. You came in order to become acquainted with her. I accepted you
at once as a son. You pretended to love Rosario--"

"Pardon me," objected Pepe; "I loved and I love Rosario; you pretended
to accept me as a son; receiving me with deceitful cordiality, you
employed from the very beginning all the arts of cunning to thwart me
and to prevent the fulfilment of the proposals made to my father; you
determined from the first day to drive me to desperation, to tire me
out; and with smiles and affectionate words on your lips you have been
killing me, roasting me at the slow fire; you have let loose upon me
in the dark and from behind an ambush a swarm of lawsuits; you have
deprived me of the official commission which I brought to Orbajosa; you
have brought me into disrepute in the town; you have had me turned out
of the cathedral; you have kept me constantly separated from the chosen
of my heart; you have tortured your daughter with an inquisitorial
imprisonment which will cause her death, unless God interposes to
prevent it."

Dona Perfecta turned scarlet. But the flush of offended pride passed
away quickly, leaving her face of a greenish pallor. Her lips trembled.
Throwing down the knife and fork with which she had been eating, she
rose swiftly to her feet. Her nephew rose also.

"My God! Holy Virgin of Succor!" she cried, raising both her hands to
her he