"I'm not
going to put up any longer with this comedy of being a somebody on the
street and a baby in my own house. Henceforth just keep your advice to
yourself until I ask for it. Good day, sir!"
As he went up the stairs he saw his mother on the first landing, in the
semi-darkness of the closed house, illumined only by the light that
entered through the window gratings. She stood there, erect, frowning,
tempestuous, like a statue of Avenging Justice.
But Rafael did not waver. He went straight on up the stairs, fearless
and without a tremor, like a proprietor who had been away from home for
some time and strides arrogantly back Into a house that is all his own.
VI
"You're right, don Andres. Rafael is not my son. He has changed. That
wanton woman has made another man of him. Worse, a thousand times worse,
than his father! Crazy over the huzzy! Capable of trampling on me if I
should step between him and her. You complain of his lack of respect to
you! Well, what about me?... You wouldn't have thought it possible! The
other morning, when he came into the house, he treated me just as he
treated you. Only a few words, but plain enough! He'll do just as he
pleases, or--what amounts to the same thing--he'll keep up his affair
with that woman until he wearies of her, or else blows up in one grand
debauch, like his father.
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