d encouraging aspect; his eyes were injected with
blood; his face was livid, and his cheek-bones, whence the usual ruddy
tinge had fled, formed two white spots in his cadaverous countenance;
his distended nostrils palpitated like those of ferocious beasts that
had scent of a prey; his teeth were pressed upon his lip, which was
swollen and bloody from the bite. Jealousy, fury, and revenge had set
their stamp on his distorted features.

"Blessed Lady of Almudena!" muttered the old woman, "deliver us from
this peril, and I promise you a wax taper with a velvet handle."

Courageous as he was, Andres experienced that uneasy feeling to which
the bravest men are subject when exposed to a danger against which they
are defenceless. He mechanically extended his hand to seek some weapon.

As nobody opened the door, Juancho applied his shoulder to it and gave a
push; the planks cracked, and the plaster crumbled from round the lock
and hinges. Then Militona, placing herself before Andres, said in a calm
and firm voice to the old woman, who was half crazed with terror:

"Aldonsa, open the door; I insist upon it."

Aldonsa drew the bolt, and, standing close to the wall, pulled the door
back upon her for protection, like a helot letting a tiger into the
arena, or a servant admitting into the bull-ring some furious native of
Gaviria or Colmenar. Juancho, who expected more resistance, entered
slowly, as if disconcerted by the absence of obstacles. But a single
glance at Andres, stretched in Militona's bed, brought back all his
fury. He seized the door, to which Tia Aldonsa, who thought her last
hour come, clung with all her might, and shutting it in spite of the
poor old woman's efforts, placed his back against it and crossed his
arms upon his breast.

"Angels of heaven!" muttered Aldonsa, her teeth chattering with terror,
"he will murder us all three. I will call out of the window."

And she made a step in that direction. But Juancho, guessing her
intention, seized her by the gown, and with a single jerk replaced her
against the wall, her skirt half torn off.

"Hag!" he cried, "if you attempt to call out, I will twist your neck
like a fowl's, and send your old soul to the devil. Come not between me
and the object of my wrath, or I crush you on my path."

And he pointed to Andres, who, pale and feeble, in vain endeavoured to
raise his head from the pillow. It was a horrible situation. No noise
had been made that could alarm the