It appalls me even now to think how narrow was my escape. It was only
because I had gone to sleep in the thought that I did not know, that I
answered that I did not know. Ah--he was a cunning devil! To suddenly
wake one; to get one’s thoughts before one had had time to think! I lay
looking at him, shivering. I couldn’t even see much of his face.
“Where is she?” he said again. “Where? Dead? Dead? God have mercy on
your soul if the child is dead!”
I was still trembling. If I had told him!--I could hardly believe I had
not. He continued bending over me with an attitude that hideously mocked
solicitude.
“Where is she?” he asked again.
“Ransack the island,” I said. He glared at me, lifting the lamp. “The
whole earth, if you like.”
He ground his teeth, bending very low over me; then stood up, raising
his head into the shadow above the lamp.
“What do I care for all the admirals?” he was speaking to himself.
“No ship shall leave Havana till....” He groaned. I heard him slap his
forehead, and say distractedly, “But perhaps she is not in a ship.”
There was a silence in which I heard him breathe heavily, and then he
amazed me by saying:
“Have pity.”