Felipe, his heart growing lighter at her words. “That's just what I do think. We can't prevent it, and it is of no use to try. Do let us tell them they can do as they like.”
“Of course, Alessandro must leave us, then,” said the Señora. “They could not stay here.”
“I don't see why!” said Felipe, anxiously.
“You will, my son, if you think a moment. Could we possibly give a stronger indorsement to their marriage than by keeping them here? Don't you see that would be so?”
Felipe's eyes fell. “Then I suppose they couldn't be married here, either,” he said.
“What more could we do than that, for a marriage that we heartily approved of, my son?”
“True, mother;” and Felipe clapped his hand to his forehead. “But then we force them to run away!”
“Oh, no.” said the Señora, icily. “If they go, they will go of their own accord. We hope they will never do anything so foolish and wrong. If they do, I suppose we shall always be held in a measure responsible for not having prevented it. But if you think it is not wise, or of no use to attempt that, I do not see what there is to be done.”
Felipe did not speak. He felt discomfited; felt as if he had betrayed his friend Alessandro, his sister Ramona; as if a strange complication, network of circumstances, had forced him into a false position; he did not see what more he could ask, what more could be asked, of his mother; he did not see, either, that much less could have been granted to Alessandro and Ramona; he was angry, wearied, perplexed.
The Señora studied his face. “You do not seem satisfied, Felipe dear,” she said tenderly. “As, indeed, how could you be in this unfortunate state of affairs? But can you think of anything different for us to do?”
