locked in each other's arms, she halted, stepped back a pace, gave a cry of surprise, and, in the same second, recognized the faces of the two, who, stricken dumb, stood apart, each gazing into her face with terror.
Strangely enough, it was Ramona who spoke first. Terror for herself had stricken her dumb; terror for Alessandro gave her a voice.
“Señora,” she began.
“Silence! Shameful creature!” cried the Señora. “Do not dare to speak! Go to your room!”
Ramona did not move.
“As for you,” the Señora continued, turning to Alessandro, “you,”—she was about to say, “You are discharged from my service from this hour,” but recollecting herself in time, said,—“you will answer to Señor Felipe. Out of my sight!” And the Señora Moreno actually, for once in her life beside herself with rage, stamped her foot on the ground. “Out of my sight!” she repeated.
Alessandro did not stir, except to turn towards Ramona with an inquiring look. He would run no risk of doing what she did not wish. He had no idea what she would think it best to do in this terrible dilemma.
“Go, Alessandro,” said Ramona, calmly, still looking the Señora full in the eye. Alessandro obeyed; before the words had left her lips, he had walked away.
Ramona's composure, and Alessandro's waiting for further orders than her own before stirring from the spot, were too much for Señora Moreno. A wrath, such as she had not felt since she was young, took possession of her. As Ramona opened her lips again, saying, “Señora,” the Señora did a shameful deed; she struck the girl on the mouth, a cruel blow.
“Speak not to me!” she cried again; and seizing her by the arm, she pushed rather than dragged her up the garden-walk.
