since there had been no foul play in the
crime. The fight had been fair and open. And the student admired, he
even envied those two brave men who, for the sake of love, had not
shrunk before the solemnity of a moment in which the death-dealing wound
coincides with the knife-thrust which carries a man off to the
penitentiary.

As they left the tavern, Pascual took unceremonious leave of his
companion.

"I'm going to leave you," said he, "because no one can have any fun with
you. Hanged if I know what's the matter with you, to-day! Why, you won't
even listen to a fellow!"

Then he took his leave. Unmoved, Enrique saw him walk away; but after
that he felt a painful sensation of loneliness. Yes, and this loneliness
had come upon him because he had been frank enough not to hide his ugly
state of mind, because he had let all the melancholy of his soul shine
forth freely from his eyes. And in that moment he understood that to be
thoroughly sincere is tremendously expensive, for all sincerity--even
the most innocent--invariably exacts a heavy price.

That evening he ate only a very light supper and went to bed early. He
lay awake a long time, tortured by a flood of disconnected memories. His
father, who represented all his past, and Alicia Pardo, who symbolized
his whole present, seemed to be striving for him. The image of the girl
at last prevailed.

Little by little he fell to studying the perverse and mocking spirit of
the woman, who, even when she had waked up in the morning with him, had
looked at him and shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. Well, what had
happened? Between them, where had the fault lain? Was the girl naturally
a hard-hearted creature, incapable of high and lasting sentiments; or
was it that he, himself, quiet and peaceful, had not been able to live
up to her illusions?

Scourged by the agonizing tyranny of his will, the student's memory
recalled moments, evoked phrases, and once more endowed with new reality
all the details of that enchanted night in which it had seemed to him
all Madrid had been perfumed with violets. And as the human heart always
yearns to forgive the object of our love, Enrique succeeded at last,
after much reflection, in convincing himself that Alicia was innocent.

He decided that from the first moment she had been blameless. She had
encouraged him to undertake the conquest of her; and afterward
completely and with no other wish than to see him happy she had opened
her arms