In the distance was to be heard the music of the procession playing a grave and majestic march, but Dona Consolacion danced furiously, keeping other time to other music resounding within her.

Sisa gazed at her without moving, while her eyes expressed curiosity and something like a weak smile hovered around her pallid lips: the lady's dancing amused her.

The latter stopped as if ashamed, raised the whip,--that terrible whip known to thieves and soldiers, made in Ulango [111] and perfected by the alferez with twisted wires,--and said, "Now it's your turn to dance--dance!" She began to strike the madwoman's bare feet gently with the whip.

Sisa's face drew up with pain and she was forced to protect herself with her hands.
"Aha, now you're starting!" she exclaimed with savage joy, passing from _lento_ to _allegro vivace_.
The afflicted Sisa gave a cry of pain and quickly raised her foot.
"You've got to dance, you Indian--!" The whip swung and whistled.
Sisa let herself fall to the floor and placed both hands on her knees while she gazed at her tormentor with wildly-staring eyes.

Two sharp cuts of the whip on her shoulder made her stand up, and it was not merely a cry but a howl that the unfortunate woman uttered.