e resigned than I am now?
Don Luis is right: I am not worthy of him. However great the efforts I
might make, I could not succeed in elevating myself to him and
comprehending him, in putting my spirit into perfect communication with
his. I am a rude country girl, unlearned, uncultured; and he--there is
no science he does not understand, no secret of which he is ignorant, no
region of the intellectual world, however exalted, to which he may not
soar. Thither on the wings of his genius does he mount; and me he leaves
behind in this lower sphere, poor, ignorant woman that I am, incapable
of following him even in my hopes or with my aspirations."

"But, Pepita, for Heaven's sake don't say such things, or think them!
Don Luis does not scorn you because you are ignorant, or because you are
incapable of comprehending him, or for any other of those absurd reasons
that you are stringing together. He goes away because he must fulfill
his obligation toward God; and you should rejoice that he is going away,
for you will then forget your love for him, and God will reward you for
the sacrifice you make."

* * * * *

Pepita, who had left off crying, and had dried her tears with her
handkerchief, answered quietly:

"Very well, father; I shall be very glad of it; I am almost glad now
that he is going away. I long for to-morrow to pass, and for the time to
come when Antonona shall say to me on wakening, 'Don Luis is gone.' You
shall see then how peace and serenity will spring up again in my heart."

"God grant it may be so!" said the reverend vicar; and, convinced that
he had wrought a miracle and almost cured Pepita's malady, he took leave
of her and went home, unable to repress a certain feeling of vanity at
the thought of the influence he had exercised over the noble spirit of
this charming woman.

Pepita, who had risen as the reverend vicar was about to take his leave,
after she had closed the door, stood for a moment immovable in the
middle of the room, her gaze fixed on space, her eyes tearless. A poet
or an artist, seeing her thus, would have been reminded of Ariadne, as
Catullus describes her, after Theseus has abandoned her on the island
of Naxos. All at once, as if she had but just succeeded in untying the
knot of a cord that was strangling her, Pepita broke into heart-rending
sobs, let loose a torrent of tears, and threw herself down on the tiled
floor of her apartment. There, her face burie