Juana did not open, for she needed time to conceal Montefiore. She
knew nothing of what was passing in the salon; the double portieres of
thick tapestry deadened all sounds.

"Madame, I lied to you in saying I could not find the key. Here it
is," added Perez, taking it from a sideboard. "But it is useless.
Juana's key is in the lock; her door is barricaded. We have been
deceived, my wife!" he added, turning to Dona Lagounia. "There is a
man in Juana's room."

"Impossible! By my eternal salvation I say it is impossible!" said his
wife.

"Do not swear, Dona Lagounia. Our honor is dead, and this woman--" He
pointed to the Marana, who had risen and was standing motionless,
blasted by his words, "this woman has the right to despise us. She
saved our life, our fortune, and our honor, and we have saved nothing
for her but her money--Juana!" he cried again, "open, or I will burst
in your door."

His voice, rising in violence, echoed through the garrets in the roof.
He was cold and calm. The life of Montefiore was in his hands; he
would wash away his remorse in the blood of that Italian.

"Out, out, out! out, all of you!" cried the Marana, springing like a
tigress on the dagger, which she wrenched from the hand of the
astonished Perez. "Out, Perez," she continued more calmly, "out, you
and your wife and servants! There will be murder here. You might be
shot by the French. Have nothing to do with this; it is my affair,
mine only. Between my daughter and me there is none but God. As for