himself up
undisturbed to his thoughts.

* * * * *

He had been sunk in them for a long time, seated before his desk, with
his elbows resting upon it, when he heard a noise close by. He raised
his eyes, and saw standing beside him the meddlesome Antonona, who,
although of such massive proportions, had entered like a shadow, and was
now watching him attentively with a mixture of pity and of anger in her
glance.

Antonona, taking advantage of the hour in which the servants dined and
Don Pedro slept, had penetrated thus far without being observed, and had
opened the door of the room and closed it behind her so gently that Don
Luis, even if he had been less absorbed in meditation than he was, would
not have noticed it.

She had come resolved to hold a very serious conference with Don Luis,
but she did not quite know what she was going to say to him.
Nevertheless, she had asked heaven or hell, whichever of the two it may
have been, to loosen her tongue and bestow upon her the gift of speech;
not such grotesque and vulgar speech as she generally used, but correct,
elegant, and adapted to the noble reflections and beautiful things she
thought it necessary for the carrying out of her purpose to say.

When Don Luis saw Antonona, he frowned, and showed by his manner how
much this visit displeased him, at the same time saying roughly:

"What do you want here? Go away!"

"I have come to call you to account about my young mistress," returned
Antonona, quietly, "and I shall not go away until you have answered
me."

She then drew a chair toward the table and sat down in it, facing Don
Luis with coolness and effrontery.

Don Luis, seeing there was no help for it, restrained his anger, armed
himself with patience, and, in accents less harsh than before,
exclaimed:

"Say what you have to say!"

"I have to say," resumed Antonona, "that what you are plotting against
my mistress is a piece of wickedness. You are behaving like a villain.
You have bewitched her; you have given her some malignant potion. The
poor angel is going to die; she neither eats nor sleeps, nor has a
moment's peace, on account of you. To-day she has had two or three
hysterical attacks at the bare thought of your going away. A good deed
you have done before becoming a priest! Tell me, wretch, why did you not
stay where you were, with your uncle, instead of coming here? She, who
was so free, so completely mistress of her own