And when he was gone, she bade thee bring her water to wash the filthy Judas stain from her hand." "Santa Ana!" said Faquita, shrugging her shoulders.

"She did what the veriest muchacha would have done.

When he had gone, she sat down and cried." The old man drew back a step, and steadied himself by the table.

Then, with a certain tremulous audacity, he began: "So! that is all you have to tell--nothing! Bah! A lazy slut sleeps at her duty, and dreams behind a curtain! Yes, dreams!--you understand--dreams! And for this she leaves her occupations, and comes to gossip here! Come," he continued, steadily working himself into a passion, "come, enough of this! Get you gone!--you, and Pepita, and Andreas, and Victor--all of you--back to your duty.

Away! Am I not master here?
Off! I say!" There was no mistaking the rising anger of his voice.