ipated fellow, a gambler, and a man of no
principle whatever, but he has more vanity than Don Roderick on the
gallows. He made up his mind that my mistress should fall in love with
him and marry him, and, as she has refused him a thousand times, he is
mad enough to be tied. This does not prevent him, however, from keeping
in his money-chest more than a thousand dollars that Don Gumersindo lent
him years ago, without any more security than a bit of paper, through
the fault and at the entreaty of Pepita, who is better than bread. The
fool of a count thought, no doubt, that Pepita, who was so good to him
as a wife that she persuaded her husband to lend him money, would be so
much better to him as a widow that she would consent to marry him. He
was soon undeceived, however, and then he became furious."

"Good-by, Antonona," said Don Luis, as, now grave and thoughtful, he
left the house.

The lights of the shops and of the booths in the fair were now
extinguished, and everybody was going home to bed, with the exception of
the owners of the toy-shops, and other poor hucksters, who slept beside
their wares in the open air.

In some of the grated windows were still to be seen lovers, wrapped in
their cloaks, and chatting with their sweethearts. Almost every one else
had disappeared.

Don Luis, once out of sight of Antonona, gave a loose rein to his
thoughts. His resolution was taken, and all his reflections tended to
confirm this resolution. The sincerity and ardor of the passion with
which he had inspired Pepita; her beauty; the youthful grace of her
person, and the fresh exuberance of her soul, presented themselves to
his imagination, and rendered him happy.

Notwithstanding this, however, he could not but reflect with mortified
vanity on the change that had been wrought in himself. What would the
dean think? How great would be the horror the bishop! And, above all,
how serious were the grounds for complaint he had given his father! The
displeasure of the latter, his anger when he should know of the bond
that bound his son to Pepita, caused him infinite disquietude.

As for what--before he fell--he had called his fall it must be confessed
that, after he had fallen, it did not seem to him either so very serious
or so very reprehensible. His spiritual-mindedness, viewed in the light
that had just dawned upon him, he fancied to have had neither reality
nor consistency; to have been but the vain and artificial product of hi