ght to jail, and your sister would remain forsaken."

Miguel stood for a moment in doubt; then he shrugged his shoulders with
a gesture of sovereign contempt, and said, as he put back the pistol:--

"You are right. The truth is, that as a knave you are quite up to the
standard! Come on, Julia, come! I am ashamed to spend any more time
wasting words with this _vile wretch_."

And taking his sister around the waist, he drew her from the room.

Don Alfonso watched them as they disappeared: he listened until the
sound of their steps was lost; he also shrugged his shoulders, put back
his revolver, and, while he arranged his necktie before the glass,
previous to going out, he muttered with a diabolical smile:--

"I did not come out of it quite as well as I expected, ... but after
all, this adventure has not been so bad!"

XXVII.

As soon as Miguel and his sister reached the capital, they learned of an
event which grieved them intensely. Let us relate it from the beginning.

On account of the affectionate preference which Julia had shown on the
evening of the party, our heroic friend Utrilla had recovered sufficient
spirits to last at least half a year.

His sweet enemy made him drain the cup of triumph at one draught.
Intoxicated with love and pride, it took two consecutive months of
continual rebuffs, before this glorious young fellow came clearly to
understand that her humor had changed a little. It is evident that such
a change was not sufficient to affect him very seriously, since he was
very certain, now more than ever, of the irresistible fascination which
he exercised over the beauty. That closing of the window when he passed
along the street, that turning of the eyes in the opposite direction,
and not replying to his letters, were for the lad only "open strategies"
by which the girl was trying to make him fall in love with her, and keep
him more than ever her slave.

As a proof of this, let us say that once, happening to be at the
theatre, he took a place opposite to where she was, and not taking his
eyes from her through a whole _entr'acte_, a friend, touching him on the
shoulder, said:--

"_Hola_, comrade! evidently that little brunette pleases you."

"That's an old story," replied the ex-cadet, dryly and with dignity.

"And the girl; how about her?"

"Poor girl!" he exclaimed, shaking his head, and smiling
compassionately.

The friend observed, however, that during the whole evening the you