father is altogether another person when he is in the house of
Pepita. Not even by chance does a single phrase, a single jest of the
kind he is so prodigal of at other times escape from him then. At
Pepita's my father is politeness itself. He seems, too, to become every
day more attached to her, and to cherish greater hopes of success.

My father continues greatly pleased with me as his pupil in
horsemanship. He declares that in four or five days I shall have
mastered the art, and that I shall then mount Lucero, a black horse bred
from an Arab horse and a mare of the race of Guadalcazar, full of fire
and spirit, and trained to all manner of curvetings.

"Whoever succeeds in getting on the back of Lucero," my father says to
me, "may venture to compete in horsemanship with the centaurs
themselves; and that you shall do very soon."

Although I spend the whole day out of doors on horseback, in the
club-house, or at Pepita's, I yet steal a few hours from slumber,
sometimes voluntarily, sometimes because I can not sleep, to meditate on
my situation and to examine my conscience. The image of Pepita is always
present to my mind. "Can this be love?" I ask myself.

The moral obligation I am under, the vow I have made to consecrate
myself to the service of the altar, although not confirmed, is
nevertheless, in my eyes, full and binding. If anything opposed to the
fulfillment of this vow has entered into my soul, it must be combated.

I note, too, and do not accuse me of arrogance because I mention this to
you, that the empire of my will, which you have taught me to exercise,
is complete over my senses. While Moses on the top of Mount Sinai
conversed with God, the people on the plain below adored, rebellious,
the golden calf. Notwithstanding my youth, my spirit has no fears of
incurring a like rebelliousness. I might converse with God in full
security, if the enemy did not come to attack me in the sanctuary
itself. But the image of Pepita presents itself to my soul. It is a
spirit that makes war against my spirit. It is the idea of her beauty in
all its spiritual purity, that stands before the sanctuary of the souls
where God resides, and prevents me from reaching him.

I do not shut my eyes to the truth, however; I can see clearly; I can
reason; I do not deceive myself. Above and beyond this spiritual
inclination that draws me to Pepita, is the love of the Infinite and of
the Eternal. Although I represent Pepita to myself as