Capitola danced up to him and stood half smiling and fingering and arranging the lace of her under sleeves.
"Listen to me, you witch! Do you intend to obey me or not?"
"Not," said Cap, good-humoredly adjusting her cameo bracelet and holding up her arm to see its effect.
"You will not! Then, demmy, miss, I shall know how to make you!" thundered Old Hurricane, bringing the point of his stick down with a sharp rap.
"Eh!" cried Capitola, looking up in astonishment.
"Yes, miss; that's what I said--make you!"
"I should like to know how," said Cap, returning to her cool good humor.
"You would, would you? Demmy, I'll tell you! I have broken haughtier spirits than yours in my life. Would you know how?"
"Yes," said Cap, indifferently, still busied with her bracelets.
"Stoop and I will whisper the mystery."
Capitola bent her graceful head to hear.
"With the rod!" hissed Old Hurricane, maliciously.
Capitola sprang up as if she had been shot, wave after wave of blood tiding up in burning blushes over neck, face and forehead; then, turning abruptly, she walked off to the window.
Old Hurricane, terrified at the effect of his rude, rash words, stood excommunicating himself for having been provoked to use them; nor was the next aspect of Capitola one calculated to reassure his perturbed feelings.
She turned around. Her face was as white as marble, excepting her glittering eyes; they, half sheathed under their long lashes, flashed like stilettoes. Raising her hand and keeping her eyes fixed upon him, with a slow and gliding motion, and the deep and measured voice that scarcely seemed to belong to a denizen of earth, she approached and stood before him and spoke these words: "Uncle, in all the sorrows, shames and sufferings of my destitute childhood, no one ever dishonored my person with a blow; and if ever you should have the misfortune to forget your manhood so far as to strike me--" She paused, drew her breath hard between her set teeth, grew a shade whiter, while her dark eyes dilated until a white ring flamed around the iris.
"Oh, you perilous witch! what then!" cried Old Hurricane, in dismay.
"Why, then," said Capitola, speaking in a low, deep and measured tone, and keeping her gaze upon his astonished face, "the--first--time--I-- should--find--you--asleep--I--would--take--a--razor--and----"
"Cut my throat! I feel you would, you terrible termagant!" shuddered Old Hurricane.
"Shave your beard off smick, smack, smoove!" said Cap, bounding off and laughing merrily as she ran out of the room.