Don Abrahan held out his hand; Doña Carlota's face glowed as if she stood in the light of a wedding night.
"No," said Helena in cold repulsion. "I prefer death with Don Gabriel to the treacherous friendship of your house."
"Oh, my little dove!" Doña Carlota pleaded.
Helena appeared neither to see nor hear. She was looking after Henderson as he went on to meet Roberto, who had leaped to the ground, flung the gate wide, mounted, and came galloping forward, the white token of his pacific intention in his hand.
