“Alessandro!” the Señora sneered. “Alessandro! Ha! a beggarly Indian, on whom my servants will set the dogs, if I bid them! Ha, ha!”
The Señora's sneering tone but roused Ramona more. “You would never dare!” she cried; “Felipe would not permit it!” A most unwise retort for Ramona.
“Felipe!” cried the Señora, in a shrill voice. “How dare you pronounce his name! He will none of you, from this hour! I forbid him to speak to you. Indeed, he will never desire to set eyes on you when he hears the truth.”
“You are mistaken, Señora,” answered Ramona, more gently. “Felipe is Alessandro's friend, and—mine,” she added, after a second's pause.
“So, ho! the Señorita thinks she is all-powerful in the house of Moreno!” cried the Señora. “We will see! we will see! Follow me, Señorita Ramona!” And throwing open the door, the Señora strode out, looking back over her shoulder.
“Follow me!” she cried again sharply, seeing that Ramona hesitated; and Ramona went; across the passage-way leading to the dining-room, out into the veranda, down the entire length of it, to the Señora's room,—the Señora walking with a quick, agitated step, strangely unlike her usual gait; Ramona walking far slower than was her habit, and with her eyes bent on the ground. As they passed the dining-room door, Margarita, standing just inside, shot at Ramona a vengeful, malignant glance.
“She would help the Señora against me in anything,” thought Ramona; and she felt a thrill of fear, such as the Señora with all her threats had not stirred.
The Señora's windows were open. She closed them both, and drew the curtains tight. Then she locked the door, Ramona watching her every movement.
