ht in contemplating a work of art; he will never have
thought, never felt, never loved! Nevertheless, he thinks in good faith
that it is his right to swell with pride because a bell rings at the
Ministerio when he comes in, and a few unhappy wretches take off their
hats before him! How much energy and fawning meanness this ant has had
to exercise in order that other ants may greet him respectfully!"

He could not help laughing out loud. Mendoza opened his eyes on hearing
him, but being accustomed to these original sallies of his secretary, he
instantly closed them again, and once more slumbered.

Miguel, however, went on with his thinking.

"Religion, art, love, heroism, these signs in which I think that I can
see the expression of a more elevated nature--may they not also be
illusions, like those which this poor devil has, of his own importance?
May not the far-off country to which I aspire be a false reflection of
my own desires?"

The idea of annihilation came into his mind, and made him tremble.

"If all vanishes at the end like smoke, like a shadow, if the purest
emotions of my soul, if my wife's love, if my boy's innocent smile, have
the same worth in nature as the hate of the miscreant and the coarse
laughter of the vicious; if two beings unite and love only to be
separated for an eternity, oh! how gladly would I hate you, infamous
universe! If beyond those spaces, beautiful as they are, there is no one
capable of compassion, what is the worth of your mighty masses, or your
rythmic movements, or your tremendous rivers of light? I, miserable
atom, am more noble, because I can love and can feel compassion...."

He remained a few moments lost in suspense, with his eyes fixed on
vacancy. A strange depression, such as he had rarely felt, was gradually
taking possession of his spirit. In thought he took a rapid survey of
his past life, and it appeared to him like a chain of misfortunes; even
the pleasures of his youth seemed to him detestable and beneath
contempt. In it there was only one delicious and sweet oasis,--the two
years of his marriage.

"If all men," he said to himself, "were to look back, they would find it
the same; perhaps even worse, because the majority have not been blessed
as I have, by Heaven, for a few short moments."

His memory brought up a few friends who had died in the flower of life
after cruel sufferings; others, who, weary of struggling against fate,
had fallen at last into the depth