Don Inocencio's niece was struck dumb by so much loftiness of soul. She
opened her mouth to say something that should be in consonance with so
sublime an idea, but she only breathed a sigh.

"Like the Moors," repeated Dona Perfecta. "It is a question of Moors and
Christians. And did you suppose that by giving a fright to my nephew
all would be ended? How foolish you are! Don't you see that his friends
support him? Don't you see that you are at the mercy of that rabble?
Don't you see that any little lieutenant can set fire to my house, if
he takes it into his head to do so? But don't you know this? Don't you
comprehend that it is necessary to go to the bottom of things? Don't you
comprehend how vast, how tremendous is the power of my enemy, who is not
a man, but a sect? Don't you comprehend that my nephew, as he confronts
me to-day, is not a calamity, but a plague? Against this plague,
dear Remedios, we shall have here a battalion sent by God that will
annihilate the infernal militia from Madrid. I tell you that this is
going to be great and glorious."

"If it were at last so!"

"But do you doubt it? To-day we shall see terrible things here," said
Dona Perfecta, with great impatience. "To-day, to-day! What o'clock is
it? Seven? So late, and nothing has happened!"

"Perhaps my uncle has heard something; he is here now, I hear him coming
upstairs."

"Thank God!" said Dona Perfecta, rising to receive the Penitentiary. "He
will have good news for us."