Don Sebastian, a man of strong passions, was almost vehement in his paternal feelings--those two beings were the image of the poor dead woman, the remembrance of the only idyll which had softened a life wholly given over to ambition, and the calumnies circulated by his enemies, founded on the presence of his daughter in the archiepiscopal palace nearly drove him mad.
"They believe her to be my mistress!" he said angrily.

"My poor Visitacion, so good, so affectionate, so gentle to all, changed to a courtesan by these wretches! A sweetheart that I have taken for my amusement from the college of Noble Ladies! As if I, old and infirm, were able to think of such things! Brutes! wretches! Crimes have been committed for less!" "Let them say on.

God is in heaven and sees us all." "I know it, but this is not enough to quiet me.

You have children, Tomasa, and you know what it is to love them.

It is not only what is done against them that wounds us, but what is said.