ted, half reclining, on a sofa, before which stood a small
table with some books upon it.

She had just risen, and was attired in a light summer wrapper. Her
blonde hair, not yet arranged, looked even more beautiful in its
disorder. Her countenance, somewhat pale, and, although it still
preserved its fresh and youthful aspect, showing dark circles under the
eyes, looked more beautiful than ever under the influence of the malady,
that robbed it of color.

Pepita showed signs of impatience; she was waiting for some one.

At last the person she was awaiting, who proved to be the reverend
vicar, arrived, and entered without announcement.

After the usual salutations the reverend vicar settled himself
comfortably in an easy-chair, and the conversation thus began:

"I am very glad, my child, that you sent for me; but, even without your
doing so, I was just coming to see you. How pale you are! What is it
that ails you? Have you something of importance to tell me?"

Pepita began her answer to this series of affectionate inquiries with a
deep sigh; she then said:

"Do you not divine my malady? Have you not discovered the cause of my
suffering?"

The vicar made a gesture of denial, and looked at Pepita with something
like terror in his gaze; for he knew nothing of all that had taken
place, and was struck by the vehemence with which she spoke.

Pepita continued:

"I ought not to have sent for you, father. I should have gone to the
church myself instead, to speak with you in the confessional, and there
confess my sins. But, unhappily, far from repenting of them my heart has
hardened itself in wickedness. I have neither the courage nor the
desire to speak to the confessor, but only to the friend."

"What are you saying about sins and hardness of heart? Have you taken
leave of your senses? What sins can you have committed, you who are so
good?"

"No, father, I am not good. I have been deceiving you; I have been
deceiving myself; I have tried to deceive God."

"Come, come, calm yourself; speak with moderation and common sense, and
don't talk foolishly."

"And how shall I avoid talking foolishly when the spirit of evil
possesses me?"

"Holy Virgin! Don't talk nonsense, child; the demons most to be feared
that take possession of the soul are three, and none of them, I am
certain, can have dared to enter into yours. One is Leviathan, or the
spirit of Pride; the other is Mammon, or the spirit of Avarice; and the
other