terrible, so awful, that the crowded streets and gutters of a great
city was something to fly to for relief; ef he had made his
presence, his very name,--your name, miss, allowin' it was your
father,--ef he had made that presence so hateful, that name so
infamous, that exile, that flyin' to furrin' parts, that wanderin'
among strange folks ez didn't know ye, was the only way to make
life endurable; and ef he'd given ye,--I mean this good old man Don
Jose, miss,--ef he'd given ye as part of yer heritage a taint, a
weakness in yer very blood, a fondness for a poison, a poison that
soothed ye like a vampire bat and sucked yer life-blood (seizing
her arm) ez it soothed ye; ef this curse that hung over ye dragged
ye down day by day, till hating him, loathing him, ye saw yerself
day by day becoming more and more like him, till ye knew that his
fate was yours, and yours his,--why then, Miss Jovita (rising with
an hysterical, drunken laugh), why then, I'd run away with ye
myself,--I would, damn me!

Jovita (who has been withdrawing from him scornfully). Well acted,
Diego. Don Jose should have seen his pupil. Trust me, my father
will reward you. (Aside.) And yet there were tears in his drunken
eyes. Bah! it is the liquor: he is no longer sane. And, either
hypocrite or imbecile, he is to be trusted no longer. But where
and why is he going? (Aloud.) You are leaving us, Diego.

Sandy (quietly). Well, the old man and me don't get on together.

Jovita (scornfully). Bueno! I see. Then you abandon me.

Sandy (quickly). To the old man, miss,--not the young one. (Walks
to the table, and begins to pour out liquor.)