“Then,” she answered, “you stop here until you do, you who are anxious to be gone. I have eaten food this morning, you have not; I have a dagger, you have none; and, being as we are, I am sure that no one will venture to disturb us until Inez and your friend the priest have gone further than you can follow.” “Very well, I will swear,” he said, and he kissed the crucifix and threw it down, “You can stop here and rule my house in Granada, and I will do you no mischief, nor trouble you in any way. But if you come out of Granada, then we cross swords.” “You mean that you intend to leave this city? Then, here is paper and ink. Be so good as to sign an order to the stewards of your estates, within the territories of the Moorish king, to pay all their revenue to me during your absence, and to your servants to obey me in everything.” “It is easy to see that you were brought up in the house of a Jew merchant,” said Morella, biting the pen and considering this woman who, whether she were hawk or pigeon, knew so well how to feather her nest. “Well, if I grant you this position and these revenues, will you leave me alone and cease to press other claims upon me?” Now Betty, bethinking her of those papers that Inez had carried away with her, and that Castell and Margaret would know well how to use them if there were need, bethinking her also that if she pushed him too far at the beginning she might die suddenly as folk sometimes did in Granada, answered: “It is much to ask of a deluded woman, but I still have some pride, and will not thrust myself in where it seems I am not wanted. Therefore, so be it. Till you seek me or send for me, I will not seek you so long as you keep your bargain. Now write the paper, sign it, and call in your secretaries to witness the signature.” “In whose favour must I word it?” he asked. “In that of the Marquessa of Morella,” she answered, and he, seeing a loophole in the words, obeyed her, since if she were not his wife this writing would have no value.