"Señora!" broke out Dominica, panting over it. "I have to complain of my cousin! I thought you had understood me very well when I told you that I had no mind to wed with him, yet to-day I am to be teased, it seems, by his demanding of my hand, and more beside! Ah, more indeed!" Her eyes flashed sparks, her tongue darted its rage. "Your son, señora, dares to lay hands on me! I am to be mauled like any kitchen-wench! I! I say it is not to be borne, señora, nor will I bear it. This is no way to go to work with me. You must learn, señora, and your son with you that I am not to be so entreated, no, not I! And if you will not learn, then my uncle of Tobar shall hear of it. What, am I--Rada y Sylva!--to have easy kisses thrust on me, hateful fondlings, unmannerly hugs? No, señora, no!" Her cheeks flew storm signals; she had her hands clenched hard at her sides. Doña Beatrice put by the book of poems she had been reading, but continued to fan herself. She watched closely under her weary eyelids. "Well, you are in a great heat," she remarked. "But what is all this to the purpose? If you do not like Diego's kisses my advice to you is that you wed him with speed, for if he is at all my son he will very soon cease to want what he may have for the mere asking." Real anger leaped up; my lady seemed to grow taller with it, a very goddess. "This is to insult me! Nasty talk, señora! Shameful talk! Well, my uncle is coming to town, as I hear, and in a good hour! Do you think, señora, that he will approve your plans for me? Do you think it indeed?" "I do not," said Doña Beatrice patiently. "I think he has some little plans of his own for you, my dear, but, believe me, they differ in only the one particular from mine, that he would change the name of your bridegroom." "Señora, be assured of this, that any bridegroom were less distasteful to me than your son!" said Dominica. "You have not seen young Miguel de Tobar," her aunt reminded her. "I concede you Diego is not a Chevalier de Guise, my dear, but he is far preferable to Miguel." "The Chevalier de Guise!" cried out Dominica hotly. "What is the Chevalier de Guise to me? You do not put me off so, señora! I will have a plain answer from you: will you seek another bride for my cousin?" "I thought we understood one another better, my dear," complained Doña Beatrice. "Of course I shall not." "Then my uncle shall hear of it, señora. You force me to it. If he thinks that I am content to serve the interest of Carvalho he shall know that it is not so."