. Ah, senora! you are
too good. On occasions like this it is better to be a little less
perfect--to lay scruples aside. Why, would that be an offence to God?"

"Maria Remedios," said Dona Perfecta haughtily, "don't talk nonsense."

"Nonsense! You, with all your wisdom, cannot make your nephew do as
you wish. What could be simpler than what I propose? Since there is no
justice now to protect us, let us do a great act of justice ourselves.
Are there not men in your house who are ready for any thing? Well, call
them and say to them: 'Look, Caballuco, Paso Largo,' or whoever it may
be, 'to-night disguise yourself well, so that you may not be recognized;
take with you a friend in whom you have confidence, and station yourself
at the corner of the Calle de Santa Faz. Wait a while, and when Don
Jose Rey passes through the Calle de la Triperia on his way to
the Casino,--for he will certainly go to the Casino, understand me
well,--when he is passing you will spring out on him and give him a
fright.'"

"Maria Remedios, don't be a fool!" said Dona Perfecta with magisterial
dignity.

"Nothing more than a fright, senora; attend well to what I say, a
fright. Why! Do you suppose I would advise a crime? Good God! the very
idea fills me with horror, and I fancy I can see before my eyes blood
and fire! Nothing of the sort, senora. A fright--nothing but a fright,
which will make that ruffian understand that we are well protected. He
goes alone to the Casino, senora, entirely alone; and there he meets his
valiant friends, those of the sabre and the helmet. Imagine that he gets
the fright and that he has a few bones broken, in addition--without any
serious wounds, of course. Well, in that case, either his courage will
fail him and he will leave Orbajosa, or he will be obliged to keep his
bed for a fortnight. But they must be told to make the fright a good
one. No killing, of course; they must take care of that, but just a good
beating."

"Maria," said Dona Perfecta haughtily, "you are incapable of a lofty
thought, of a great and saving resolve. What you advise me is an
unworthy piece of cowardice."

"Very well, I will be silent. Poor me! what a fool I am!" exclaimed the
Penitentiary's niece with humility. "I will keep my follies to console
you after you have lost your daughter."

"My daughter! Lose my daughter!" exclaimed Dona Perfecta, with a sudden
access of rage. "Only to hear you puts me out of my senses. No, they
shall not tak