hrough the corridor he felt a
little chill.

She was still awake. Beside the bed a cot had been placed for Placida.

"Who was your visitor?" she asked.

"It was no consequence; a man came to speak with me about the paper."

There must have been something peculiar in Miguel's voice in making this
simple reply, for his wife looked at him anxiously for some time. To
free himself from this scrutiny, he went on to say:--

"How rested I am; I had a nap."

He kissed her forehead, then lifted the spread, contemplated for a
moment his sleeping son, and touched his lips to the little head; then
he kissed his wife again, and left the room. When he went to bed he
shivered, and nevertheless felt that his cheeks were on fire.

For a long time he lay in bed, with his eyes wide open and the lamp
lighted. A throng of melancholy thoughts passed through his mind; a
thousand forebodings and fears attacked him. Like all men of keen
imagination, he leaped to the worst conclusions; he saw himself ruined,
obliged with his wife to leave the social circles in which they had been
accustomed to move: he also remembered his son.

"My poor boy!" he exclaimed.

And he was on the point of sobbing; but he made a manly effort to
control himself, saying:--

"No! weep for lost money? Such things are done only by fools and misers.
A man who has a wife like mine, and a son such as she has just given me,
has no right to ask anything more of God. I am young; I have good
health; if worse comes to worst, I can work for them."

As he murmured these words, he gave a violent puff to the light, and had
sufficient self-control to calm himself, and was soon asleep.

XVII.

On the following morning, as soon as he was dressed, and after spending
by his wife's side a much shorter time than circumstances required, he
left the house and hastened to Mendoza's.

Mendoza at this time was lodging at one of the best and most central
hotels of Madrid. When Miguel reached there, he was still asleep.
Nevertheless, he went to his room, and took it upon himself to open the
shutters like a friend whose familiarity was limitless.

"_Hola!_ I see that you sleep just the same as when you were not a great
man."

Mendoza rubbed his eyes, and looked at him in amazement.

"What does this mean, Miguelito? Why so early in the morning?"

"My dear Perico, the first thing that you must do is to get rid of this
condescending tone. When there are people present, I am