"Of Don Juan Rey's son?"

"From the moment I first set eyes on him at the station at
Villahorrenda, and he spoke to me with his honeyed voice and his mincing
manners," declared Licurgo, "I thought him a great--I will not say what,
through respect for the mistress. But I knew him--I put my mark upon him
from that moment, and I make no mistakes. A thread shows what the ball
is, as the saying goes; a sample tells what the cloth is, and a claw
what the lion is."

"Let no one speak ill of that unhappy young man in my presence," said
Senora de Polentinos severely. "No matter how great his faults may be,
charity forbids our speaking of them and giving them publicity."

"But charity," said Don Inocencio, with some energy, "does not forbid us
protecting ourselves against the wicked, and that is what the question
is. Since character and courage have sunk so low in unhappy Orbajosa;
since our town appears disposed to hold up its face to be spat upon by
half a dozen soldiers and a corporal, let us find protection in union
among ourselves."

"I will protect myself in whatever way I can," said Dona Perfecta
resignedly, clasping her hands. "God's will be done!"

"Such a stir about nothing! By the Lord! In this house they are all
afraid of their shadows," exclaimed Caballuco, half seriously, half
jestingly. "One would think this Don Pepito was a legion of devils.
Don't be frightened, senora. My little nephew Juan, who is thirteen,
will guard the house, and we shall see, nephew for nephew, which is the
best man."

"We all know already what your boasting and bragging signify," replied
Dona Perfecta. "Poor Ramos! You want to pretend to be very brave when we
have already had proof that you are not worth any thing."

Ramos turned slightly pale, while he fixed on Dona Perfecta a strange
look in which terror and respect were blended.

"Yes, man; don't look at me in that way. You know already that I am not
afraid of bugaboos. Do you want me to speak plainly to you now? Well,
you are a coward."

Ramos, moving about restlessly in his chair, like one who is troubled
with the itch, seemed greatly disturbed. His nostrils expelled and drew
in the air, like those of a horse. Within that massive frame a storm
of rage and fury, roaring and destroying, struggled to escape. After
stammering a few words and muttering others under his breath, he rose to
his feet and bellowed:

"I will cut off the head of Senor Rey!"

"What folly! You are as