Dona Isabel, he discovered, was both vain and selfish. Not only
did she crave luxury and display, but with singular persistence
she demanded to know all about her husband's financial affairs.
Now Don Esteban was no longer young; age had soured him with
suspicion, and when once he saw himself as the victim of a
mercenary marriage he turned bitterly against his wife. Her
curiosity he sullenly resented, and he unblushingly denied his
possession of any considerable wealth. In fact, he tried with
malicious ingenuity to make her believe him a poor man. But Isabel
was not of the sort to be readily deceived. Finding her arts and
coquetries of no avail, she flew into a rage, and a furious
quarrel ensued--the first of many. For the lady could not rest
without knowing all there was to know about the treasure.
Avaricious to her finger-tips, she itched to weigh those bags of
precious metal and yearned to see those jewels burning upon her
bosom. Her mercenary mind magnified their value many times, and
her anger at Don Esteban's obstinacy deepened to a smoldering
hatred.
She searched the quinta, of course, whenever she had a chance, but
she discovered nothing--with the result that the mystery began to
engross her whole thought. She pried into the obscurest corners,
she questioned the slaves, she lay awake at night listening to
Esteban's breathing, in the hope of surprising his secret from his
dreams.
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