"O Alfonso!"

"Yes, Julia, yes; it must be: we must separate, and forever. Here all
that we do is to torment ourselves cruelly. It is an infernal life to
have happiness before our eyes and not be able to touch it. Before
proposing this last recourse,--which is very harsh to be sure,--but
absolutely indispensable,--I firmly decided to leave the country, in
case you did not accept it. So to-morrow I take the train for Paris. I
confess frankly I have not the strength to endure this tormenting
situation."

The astute _caballero_ ceased speaking. Julia likewise was silent: a
melancholy pallor spread over her lovely face; her eyes were fixed
wildly on a point of space, and she sat motionless as a statue. Don
Alfonso left her in this situation a long time without disturbing her
eager and anxious thoughts, though he kept looking at her. Her pallor
kept growing more and more pronounced.

When he felt that the right moment had arrived, the wily seducer went to
take his hat which he had laid on the piano, and returning to the girl,
and holding out his hand, he said in a trembling voice:--

"_Adios_, Julia!"

She retained it a moment, and then, giving him a desperate look, her
face being now livid, said:--

"Don't go, Alfonso. Do with me what you please. I am ready to follow
you."

The _caballero_, after assuring himself that his aunt could not see
them, long held her tightly enfolded in his arms.

XXV.

"Boy, bring me a glass of _limon_.... Bring me two, do you hear?"

The banker was choking. He was a short, stout man, with extremely red
cheeks. He unbuttoned his shirt collar and went on shuffling the cards,
all the time snorting furiously, as though he were threatened by some
apoplectic attack.

"Game."

The players made their play, laying their stakes beside the cards. A
gloved hand placed a package of bills on one of them.

"How much of that do you bet, Saavedra?" asked the fat gambler, lifting
his eyes which were full of terror and seemed to ask for mercy.

"All," replied the Andalusian _caballero_ dryly.

"How much is there?"

"I don't know."

His tone was depreciative enough. However, the banker seemed not to mind
it: he took the package and began to count it under the watchful eyes of
the group of players who were gathered around the table, some seated,
some standing.

"There are forty-one thousand reals."

"There is not enough in the bank," said one player, stretching out his
hand for his