"
Alaire raised her head proudly, her nostrils dilated, her eyes
ablaze with hostility. "This is very humiliating, but you force me
to tell you that I hate you."
Longorio was incredulous rather than offended. He drew himself up
to his full height and smiled, saying, "That is impossible." Then,
ignoring her impatience: "Come! You cannot deceive me. The priest
is waiting."
When Alaire spoke next it was with an expression and with a tone
of such loathing that his yellow face paled "Your conceit is
insufferable," she breathed.
After a brief struggle with himself, the Mexican cried, hoarsely:
"I will not be refused. You wish me to tame you, eh? Good! You
have found your master. Make your choice, then. Which shall it be,
surrender or--compulsion?"
"So! You have been lying, as I thought. Compulsion! Now the real
Longorio speaks."
He flung up his hands as if to ward off her fury. "No? Have I not
made myself clear? I shall embrace you only with the arms of a
husband, for this is not the passion of a moment, but of a
lifetime, and I have myself to consider. The wife of Mexico's next
President must be above reproach; there must be no scandal, no
secrets hidden away for enemies to unearth.
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