d she was
so rigidly still all over that the brilliant stones in the shaft of the
arrow of gold, with the six candles at the head of the sofa blazing full
on them, emitted no sparkle.

I was extremely anxious that she shouldn't betray herself. I reasoned,
save the mark, as a psychologist. I had no doubt that the man knew of
her being there; but he only knew it by hearsay. And that was bad
enough. I could not help feeling that if he obtained some evidence for
his senses by any sort of noise, voice, or movement, his madness would
gain strength enough to burst the lock. I was rather ridiculously
worried about the locks. A horrid mistrust of the whole house possessed
me. I saw it in the light of a deadly trap. I had no weapon, I couldn't
say whether he had one or not. I wasn't afraid of a struggle as far as
I, myself, was concerned, but I was afraid of it for Dona Rita. To be
rolling at her feet, locked in a literally tooth-and-nail struggle with
Ortega would have been odious. I wanted to spare her feelings, just as I
would have been anxious to save from any contact with mud the feet of
that goatherd of the mountains with a symbolic face. I looked at her
face. For immobility it might have been a carving. I wished I knew how
to deal with that embodied mystery, to influence it, to manage it. Oh,
how I longed for the gift of authority! In addition, since I had become
completely sane, all my scruples against laying hold of her had returned.
I felt shy and embarrassed. My eyes were fixed on the bronze handle of
the fencing-room door as if it were something alive. I braced myself up
against the moment when it would move. This was what was going to happen
next. It would move very gently. My heart began to thump. But I was
prepared to keep myself as still as death and I hoped Dona Rita would
have sense enough to do the same. I stole another glance at her face and
at that moment I heard the word: "Beloved!" form itself in the still air
of the room, weak, distinct, piteous, like the last request of the dying.

With great presence of mind I whispered into Dona Rita's ear: "Perfect
silence!" and was overjoyed to discover that she had heard me, understood
me; that she even had command over her rigid lips. She answered me in a
breath (our cheeks were nearly touching): "Take me out of this house."

I glanced at all her clothing scattered about the room and hissed
forcibly the warning "Perfect immobility"; noticing