nt to her
house, between half-past two and three, at which hour Don Manuel was
never there. But Teodora, the maid, never let him get beyond the parlor.
Sometimes Alicia was out, the maid said; again, she was asleep or had a
headache, and could not see him. Teodora spoke drily, disconcertingly.
If there is any way to sound the good or bad opinion any one has of us,
it is surely in the attitude of that person's servants. The student
would murmur:

"And she didn't leave any word for me?"

"No, sir. Not any."

Then, at sight of the maid's sly and mocking face, Enrique would feel
his countenance lengthen with sadness. His eyes would grow dim with
grief and humility, like those of a discharged servant. But then, not
being quite able to give up the illusion that had brought him there, he
would say:

"Well, all right, if that's how it is. Tell her I called, and say I'll
be back to-morrow."

As he went down the stairs, very sadly, that idea of his own inferiority
which had wounded him on the night he had been introduced to Alicia once
more overcame him. Yes, he was beaten at the start. He was inept and
worthless. What could he offer her? Not money, since he was poor; nor
fame, since he was not a noted artist; nor yet could he bring her gayety
and joy, for whatever of these he had until now possessed in his
sentimental, introspective soul, had been taken away from him by
Alicia's indifference.

Many days, at nightfall, the student went to Calle Mayor and stood in
front of the jeweler's window where he could see the sparkling of that
magnificent emerald necklace that Alicia had told him about. Now he
would walk up and down the street, wrapped in his cloak with a certain
worldly aplomb; now he would pause to look at the shop, whose electric
lights flooded the passers-by under a rain of brilliancy. He would stand
a long time in front of the window, enthralled by the spell of the
bleeding rubies, the topazes which burned like wounds, the celestial
blue turquoises. He would stare at the chains and rings, shimmering with
gold on the artistically-wrinkled, black velvet, which finely carpeted
the broad reach of the window. And this vagrant attraction, wakened in
him by the jewels, seemed to cause a kind of presentiment. All the time,
his immature mind would be thinking:

"Alicia would be happy if she should pass along, now, and see me here."

During those first days of separation, the memory of the beloved one
rooted itself in