“Out, out, out! out, all of you!” cried the Marana, springing like a tigress on the dagger, which she wrenched from the hand of the astonished Perez. “Out, Perez,” she continued more calmly, “out, you and your wife and servants! There will be murder here. You might be shot by the French. Have nothing to do with this; it is my affair, mine only. Between my daughter and me there is none but God. As for the man, he belongs to _me_. The whole earth could not tear him from my grasp. Go, go! I forgive you. I see plainly that the girl is a Marana. You, your religion, your virtue, were too weak to fight against my blood.” She gave a dreadful sigh, turning her dry eyes on them. She had lost all, but she knew how to suffer,--a true courtesan. The door opened. The Marana forgot all else, and Perez, making a sign to his wife, remained at his post. With his old invincible Spanish honor he was determined to share the vengeance of the betrayed mother. Juana, all in white, and softly lighted by the wax candles, was standing calmly in the centre of her chamber. “What do you want with me?” she said. The Marana could not repress a passing shudder. “Perez,” she asked, “has this room another issue?” Perez made a negative gesture; confiding in that gesture, the mother entered the room. “Juana,” she said, “I am your mother, your judge; you have placed yourself in the only situation in which I could reveal myself to you. You have come down to me, you, whom I thought in heaven. Ah! you have fallen low indeed. You have a lover in this room.” “Madame, there is and can be no one but my husband,” answered the girl. “I am the Marquise de Montefiore.” “Then there are two,” said Perez, in a grave voice. “He told me he was married.” “Montefiore, my love!” cried the girl, tearing aside the curtain and revealing the officer. “Come! they are slandering you.” The Italian appeared, pale and speechless; he saw the dagger in the Marana’s hand, and he knew her well. With one bound he sprang from the room, crying out in a thundering voice,-- “Help! help! they are murdering a Frenchman. Soldiers of the 6th of the line, rush for Captain Diard! Help, help!” Perez had gripped the man and was trying to gag him with his large hand, but the Marana stopped him, saying,-- “Bind him fast, but let him shout. Open the doors, leave them open, and go, go, as I told you; go, all of you.--As for you,” she said, addressing Montefiore, “shout, call for help if you choose; by the time your soldiers get here this blade will be in your heart. Are you married? Answer.” Montefiore, who had fallen on the threshold of the door, scarcely a step from Juana, saw nothing but the blade of the dagger, the gleam of which blinded him. “Has he deceived me?” said Juana, slowly. “He told me he was free.” “He told me that he was married,” repeated Perez, in his solemn voice. “Holy Virgin!” murmured Dona Lagounia.