“You are master here,” she answered, in a voice cold as the falling snow without, “why then do you mock me?” He motioned to the women to leave the room, and when they had gone, replied: “I have little thought of such a thing, lady; the matter in hand is too serious for smart sayings,” and with another bow he sat himself down on a chair near the hearth, where a fire was burning. Whereon Elsa rose and stood over against him, for upon her feet she seemed to feel stronger. “Will you be so good as to set out this matter, Señor Ramiro? Am I brought here to be tried for heresy?” “Even so, for heresy against the god of love, and the sentence of the Court is that you must expiate your sin, not at the stake, but at the altar.” “I do not understand.” “Then I will explain. My son Adrian, a worthy young man on the whole—you know that he _is_ my son, do you not?—has had the misfortune, or I should say the good fortune, to fall earnestly in love with you, whereas you have the bad taste—or, perhaps, the good taste—to give your affections elsewhere. Under the circumstances, Adrian, being a youth of spirit and resource, has fallen back upon primitive methods in order to bring his suit to a successful conclusion. He is here, you are here, and this evening I understand that the priest will be here. I need not dwell upon the obvious issue; indeed, it is a private matter upon which I have no right to intrude, except, of course, as a relative and a well-wisher.” Elsa made an impatient movement with her hand, as though to brush aside all this web of words. “Why do you take so much trouble to force an unhappy girl into a hateful marriage?” she asked. “How can such a thing advantage you?” “Ah!” answered Ramiro briskly, “I perceive I have to do with a woman of business, one who has that rarest of gifts—common sense. I will be frank. Your esteemed father died possessed of a very large fortune, which to-day is your property as his sole issue and heiress. Under the marriage laws, which I myself think unjust, that fortune will pass into the power of any husband whom you choose to take. Therefore, so soon as you are made his wife it will pass to Adrian. I am Adrian’s father, and, as it happens, he is pecuniarily indebted to me to a considerable amount, so that, in the upshot, as he himself has pointed out more than once, this alliance will provide for both of us. But business details are wearisome, so I need not enlarge.” “The fortune you speak of, Señor Ramiro, is lost.” “It is lost, but I have reason to hope that it will be found.” “You mean that this is purely a matter of money?” “So far as I am concerned, purely. For Adrian’s feelings I cannot speak, since who knows the mystery of another’s heart?” “Then, if the money were forthcoming—or a clue to it—there need be no marriage?” “So far as I am concerned, none at all.” “And if the money is not forthcoming, and I refuse to marry the Heer Adrian, or he to marry me—what then?”