Dona Perfecta rose to her feet, indignant, majestic, terrible. Her attitude was that of anathema incarnated in a woman. Rey remained seated, serene, courageous, with the passive courage of a profound conviction and an immovable resolve. The whole weight of his aunt's wrath, threatening to overwhelm him, did not make him move an eyelash.
This was his character.
"You are mad. Marry my daughter, you! Marry her against my will!"
Dona Perfecta's trembling lips articulated these words in a truly tragic tone.
"Against your will! She is of a different way of thinking."
"Against my will!" repeated Dona Perfecta. "Yes, and I repeat it again and again. I do not wish it, I do not wish it!"
"She and I wish it."
"Fool! Is nothing else in the world to be considered but her and you?
Are there not parents; is there not society; is there not a conscience; is there not a God?"
"Because there is society, because there is a conscience, because there is a God," affirmed Rey gravely, rising to his feet, and pointing with outstretched arm to the heavens, "I say and I repeat that I will marry her."
"Wretch! arrogant man! And if you would dare to trample every thing under your feet, do you think there are not laws to prevent your violence?"
"Because there are laws, I say and I repeat that I will marry her."
"You respect nothing!"
"Nothing that is unworthy of respect."
"And my authority, my will, I--am I nothing?"
"For me your daughter is every thing--the rest is nothing."
Pepe Rey's composure was, so to say, the arrogant display of invincible and conscious strength. The blows he gave were hard and crushing in their force, without any thing to mitigate their severity. His words, if the comparison may be allowed, were like a pitiless discharge of artillery.
Dona Perfecta sank again on the sofa; but she shed no tears, and a convulsive tremor agitated her frame.
"So that for this infamous atheist," she exclaimed, with frank rage, "there are no social conventionalities, there is nothing but caprice.
This is base avarice. My daughter is rich!"
"If you think to wound me with that treacherous weapon, evading the question and giving a distorted meaning to my sentiments in order to offend my dignity, you are mistaken, dear aunt. Call me mercenary, if you choose. God knows what I am."
"You have no dignity!"
"That is an opinion, like any other. The world may hold you to be infallible. I do not. I am far from believing that from your judgments there is no appeal to God."
"But is what you say true? But do you persist in your purpose, after my refusal? You respect nothing, you are a monster, a bandit."
"I am a man."
"A wretch! Let us end this at once. I refuse to give my daughter to you; I refuse her to you!"
"I will take her then! I shall take only what is mine."
"Leave my presence!" exclaimed Dona Perfecta, rising suddenly to her feet. "Coxcomb, do you suppose that my daughter thinks of you?"
"She loves me, as I love her."
"It is a lie! It is a lie!"
"She herself has told me so. Excuse me if, on this point, I put more faith in her words than in her mother's."
"How could she have told you so, when you have not seen her for several days?"
"I saw her last night, and she swore to me before the crucifix in the chapel that she would be my wife."
"Oh, scandal; oh, libertinism! But what is this? My God, what a disgrace!" exclaimed Dona Perfecta, pressing her head again between her hands and walking up and down the room. "Rosario left her room last night?"
"She left it to see me. It was time."
"What vile conduct is yours! You have acted like a thief; you have acted like a vulgar seducer!"
"I have acted in accordance with the teachings of your school. My intention was good."
