The Day of the Moon Read Online Free Page A

speak in such a tone.
    â€œHe’s dead. What else do I need to know.” It was Flavio’s turn to be overbearing, his voice filled with ice. He frowned, disliking the direction their conversation was taking.
    â€œYou need to know that he took his life because we had fallen into poverty. You could have prevented that from happening.”
    He glared at his sister, realizing that he disliked her intensely at that moment. He wanted to tell her that she was there only because he needed the legitimacy of family. He resented Brígida’s tone, her manner, and most of all the haughty look in her eyes. He decided that he would marry her off as soon as possible.
    Flavio signaled the driver to head for the entrance. They fell into sullen silence until the carriage halted and he jumped from the vehicle without using the steps. Then he turned and extended his hand to Brígida, who stepped down with an affectation of aristocracy which surprised Flavio but which he calculated would be on his side in his negotiations for her marriage. That night as Flavio and Brígida were being served dinner, he went directly to the point.
    â€œI’m to marry next month.” He was peeling a pear. As he sliced off a wedge, he put it into his mouth with the blade of the knife. He waited until Brígida said something.
    â€œMarried? To whom?”
    Her eyebrows had arched. Her expression said that she now understood why he had dragged her across hundreds of miles to his hacienda.
    â€œHer name is Velia Carmelita Urrutia. Her family is influential in these parts.”
    â€œI see.” Brígida was not eating; she was rubbing a water glass between her hands. “Do you love her?”
    Again, the blunt way in which his sister probed into the privacy of his life irritated Flavio. He found being scrutinized by Brígida repugnant. He disliked being asked such questions, especially when they came from a woman, and that woman his sister.
    â€œDon’t you think that’s my business?”
    â€œYou’ve answered my question. I supposed a more important question would be to wonder if she loves you. Eh?”
    Brígida smiled, sarcasm stamped on her face. She looked as if she might burst out laughing. This was not the way Flavio had imagined his sister. He had assumed that she would be filled with gratitude and admiration for him. Instead he was faced with rudeness and impertinence. The young woman’s face was a mask; something hard lurked behind it.
    He fought the impulse to stand up and slap Brígida. Instead, he re-filled his wine glass and gulped it down. He knew now that her being in the same house with him would not work. He had thought that having her might bring to Casa Miraflores the civility and respectability demanded by a family such as the Urrutias. To the contrary, his sister would be nothing less than a constant annoyance, a disadvantage. Flavio understood that he had made a mistake. He glared at his sister through half-closed eyes, deciding to put her in place without losing time.
    â€œI didn’t bring you from Arandas so that you could mock me. I want you to understand that immediately.”
    He sat rigidly in the high-backed chair and pressed his body against it with such force that he heard the wooden frame squeak. He saw, however, that the look of sarcasm had only deepened around her eyes and mouth. His mind searched for a way to crush her boldness. “It’s my intention that you marry as soon after me as possible. I—”
    Flavio’s words were cut off by his sister’s laughter. Loud, cackling, vulgar, it came from the center of her body and echoed off the high ceiling of the chamber. She went on giggling until her face turned red and tears ran down her cheeks. He felt his nerves beginning to unravel.
She was laughing at him.
Flavio knew that he was losing control when he tasted a bitterness on his tongue.
    As she went on with her merriment, he sprang to his