She took off her mantilla and threw it at her feet, and stood motionless with one hand on her hip, looking at me steadily.
"You mean to kill me, I see that well," she said. "It is fate. But you'll never make me give in."
I said to her: "Be rational, I implore you; listen to me. All the past is forgotten. Yet you know it is you who have been my ruin—it is because of you that I am a robber and a murderer. Carmen, my Carmen, let me save you, and save myself with you."
"José," she answered, "what you ask is impossible. I don't love you any more. You love me still and that is why you want to kill me. If I liked I might tell you some other lie, but I don't choose to give myself the trouble. Everything is over between us two. You are my rom and you have the right to kill your romi, but Carmen will always be free. A calli she was born and a calli she'll die."
"Then you love Lucas?" I asked.
"Yes, I have loved him—as I loved you—for an instant—less than I loved you, perhaps. And now I don't love anything. And I hate myself for ever having loved you."
