In a voice that was bitter and trembling with hate, he said, "Look at me well, look at one who has suffered and you live, you live, you have wealth, a home, reputation--you live, you live!" Beside himself, he ran to a small collection of arms and snatched up a dagger.

But scarcely had he done so when he let it fall again and stared like a madman at the motionless Ibarra.
"What was I about to do ?" he muttered, fleeing from the house..