And it was you, you! who have robbed me of the only thing that I had!..." Her imagination invented the most improbable reasons for explaining to herself this unjust loss.
"God wished to punish you for your bad life and has therefore killed Esteban, and is slowly killing me....

When I learned of his death I wished to throw myself off the balcony.

I am still living because I am a Christian, but what an existence awaits me! What a life for you if you are really a father!...

Think that your son might still be existing if you had not remained in Naples." Ferragut was a pitiful object.

He hung his head without strength to repeat the confused and lying protests with which he had received his wife's first words.
"If she knew all the truth!" the voice of remorse kept saying in his brain.
He was thinking with horror of what Cinta could say if she knew the magnitude of his sin.