'I am assured upon undeniable authority that Senor
Montesma has a wife living at Cuba; and even were this not so--were he
free to marry you--his character and antecedents would for ever forbid
such a marriage.'
'A wife! No, no, no!' shrieked Lesbia, looking wildly from one to the
other. 'It is a lie--a lie, invented by my brother, who always hated
me--by you, who fooled and deceived me! It is a lie, an infamous
invention! Don Gomez, speak to them: for pity's sake answer them! Don't
you see that they are driving me mad?'
She flung herself into his arms, she buried her dishevelled head upon
his breast; she clung to him with hands that writhed convulsively in her
agony.
Maulevrier sprang across the cabin and wrenched her from her lover's
grasp.
'You shall not pollute her with your touch,' he cried; 'you have
poisoned her mind already. Scoundrel, seducer, slave-dealer! Do you
hear, Lesbia? Shall I tell you what this man is--what trade he followed
yonder, on his native island--this Spanish hidalgo--this
all-accomplished gentleman--lineal descendant of the Cid--fine flower
of Andalusian chivalry? It was not enough for him to cheat at cards, to
float bubble companies, bogus lotteries.
Pages:
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867