Pablo and Marianela went out into the country, preceded by Choto, who ran on and danced round them, leaping with delight, and sharing his caresses with great impartiality between his master and his master's guide.

"Nela," said Pablo,—"it is a lovely day; the air is soft and fresh, and the sun warm without being scorching. Where shall we go?"

"Let us go straight on through the meadows," replied Nela, poking her hand into one of the pockets of the lad's coat. "What have you brought me to-day?"

"Search and you will find," said Pablo laughing.

"Ah! Holy Virgin! chocolate! how I love chocolate!—nuts—and something done up in paper. What is it? Oh, Blessed Virgin! a sweetie! Do not I like sweeties! How rich I am! We do not have such good things to eat at home, Pablo. There is no luxury in our food; there is no luxury in our clothes either, to be sure. In fact, no luxury of any sort."

"Where shall we go to-day?" repeated the blind lad.

"Wherever you like, child of my heart," replied Nela, eating the sugar-plum and tearing up the paper it had been wrapped in. "I hear and obey, king of the world."

The child's black eyes sparkled with happiness; her sprightly little birdlike face smiled and wrinkled with satisfaction, and was not still for an instant, as though fitful flashes came and went there like dimpling light on wavelets in a pool. This helpless little creature, whose spirit seemed imprisoned and confined in the feeble body, expanded and rose elastic when she was alone with her master and friend. With him she at once became original, bright and intelligent; she had feeling, grace, refinement and fancy. When she left him, the dark doors of a prison seemed to close on her once more.

"But I tell you we will go wherever you like," remarked the blind youth. "I like to do what you like. If you wish we will go to the clump of trees beyond Saldeoro—but just as you like."

"Yes, yes, delightful!" exclaimed Nela, clapping her hands. "And as there is no hurry, we can sit down whenever we are tired."

"There is a nice place near the spring—do you remember, Nela? And there are some large tree-trunks, which seem to have been left there on purpose for us to sit upon, and we hear so many, many birds singing, that it is quite glorious."

"And we can go past the mill-stream that, you say, talks and mumbles the words out like a tipsy man. Oh! what a lovely day and how happy I am!"

"Is the sun very bright, Nela? Though if you say 'yes,' I shall be none the wiser, since bright has no meaning for me."

"It is very bright indeed, SeÑorito mio. But what does it matter that you cannot see it? The sun is not at all pretty; you cannot look in its face."

"Why not?"

"Because it hurts."

"Hurts what?"

"Hurts the eyes. How do you feel when you are happy?"

"When I am out with you, just we two together in the fields?"

"Yes."

"Oh! I feel inside me a sort of freshness, a springing up of something sweet and soothing...."

"That is just it; now you know how the sun shines bright."

"What with freshness?"

"No, no—silly boy."

"What then?"

"Oh, like that."

"Like that? But what is that?"

"Like that," Nela insisted again.

"I see, it is a thing that cannot be explained in words. Do you know I used to have a notion of day and of night. It was daytime when people talked, it was night when people were silent and the cocks crowed. Now I estimate it differently; it is day when you and I are together, and it is night when we are apart."

"Ah, Holy Mother!" exclaimed the girl, shaking back the elf-locks that hung over her forehead.—"To me, who can see, it is exactly the same."

"I mean to ask my father to let you come and live in our house, so that I may always have you with me."

"Good, good!" cried Marianela clapping her hands once more. And as she spoke, she skipped on a little way in front and picking up her skirts with a great deal of grace began to dance.

"What are you about?" asked the blind boy.

"Child of my heart, I am dancing, I felt so happy that I thought I must dance."

However, they now had to get over a little fence, and she slipped her hand into his. After surmounting this obstacle, they went along a lane hedged in on each side by luxuriant ivy and brambles. Nela held the branches back that they might not scratch her companion's face, and at last, after going down-hill for a considerable time, they went up a slope shaded by chestnut and walnut trees. When they had reached the top Pablo said:

"If you do not mind we will sit down here. I hear some people going past."

"They are the people returning from the market at Homedes. To-day is Wednesday. The high-road runs just below and we can rest here before going on."

"It is the best thing we can do. Choto, come here."

The trio seated themselves.

"The place is full of flowers," said Nela. "What beauties!"

"Pick me some. Though I cannot see them, I like to hold them in my hand. I fancy I can hear them."

"Here are some lovely ones."

"As I hold them in my hand I fancy that they make me feel and understand—I cannot tell you how—that they are pretty and gay. There is something inside me, that they seem to belong to, and that answers to them. Do you know, Nela, I fancy that I can really see, inside, as it were."

"Oh! yes, I quite understand—we have everything inside us there. The sun, the flowers, the moon and wide blue sky, with all the stars—we have them all there; I mean that besides all the beautiful things outside us, and around us, we carry others with us in our minds. Here you have a flower—and another, and another—six, all quite different. Now, what do you think flowers are?"

"Flowers," said the blind youth, puzzled and lifting them to his face. "Flowers are I fancy as if the earth smiled; but, in truth, I know very little about plants and flowers."

"Merciful Mother! what terrible ignorance!" cried Nela, stroking her friend's hands. "Flowers are the stars of the earth."

"What an extravagant fancy! And what are the stars then?"

"The stars are the eyes of those who have gone to Heaven and look down on us."

"Well, but then the flowers...."

"Are the eyes of those who are dead and have not gone straight to Heaven," said the girl, with all the decision and conviction of a Doctor of Theology. "The dead are buried in the ground; but as they cannot lie still there without just peeping out at the world, they put forth something which takes the form of a flower. When, in a field there are many, many flowers, it is because—once upon a time, long ago, a great many people were buried there."

"No, no," said Pablo very seriously. "Do not believe such nonsense. Our holy religion teaches us that the spirit quits the flesh and that our mortal life comes to an end. What is buried, Nela, is a mere shell of useless clay which can neither think, nor feel, nor even see."

"The books say so—but SeÑana says that books are full of lies."

"But faith and reason say so too, dear Nela. Your imagination makes you believe a number of foolish things, but by degrees I will show you your errors, and you will have true and right ideas about everything in this world and the other."

"Aye, aye! I know, lessons at three for a penny!—And you wanted to make me believe that the sun stands still and the earth spins round and round it! How can you know, you who cannot see. Merciful Heaven! May I die on the spot, if the earth is not as steady as a rock and the sun running on. SeÑorito mio, I do not set up for learning, but I have spent many hours of the day and night in looking at the sky, and I know how the machine works.—The earth is below and full of islands, some large and some small. The sun comes up on this side and goes down out there. It is God Almighty's palace."

"Foolish child!"

"But why not? Ah! you have never seen a fine day and clear sky; why, child, you could fancy blessing was dropping down from it. I do not think there could be wicked people—nobody could be wicked—if they would only turn up their faces and see the great eye that looks down upon us."

"Your religion is full of superstition, my little Nela. I will teach you something better."

"Nobody has taught me anything," said MarÍa very simply. "But I myself, whoever may object, have found out in my own head a great many ideas that comfort me, and so when a good idea occurs to me, I say: 'Of course, it must be so; it cannot be otherwise.' At night, when I am alone at home, I wonder what will become of us when we die, and I think how much the Holy Virgin loves us."

"Yes, she is our loving Mother."

"And I look up at the sky and I feel her close over my head, just as when you go up to any one, you feel the warmth of their breath. She looks at us night and day through all the lovely things there are in the world—do not laugh at me."

"Those lovely things...?"

"Are her eyes, of course. Oh! you would understand it if you had eyes yourself. You have not seen a white cloud, a tree, a flower, running water, a little child, a little lamb, the sparkling dew, the moon sailing across the sky, and the stars, which are the eyes of the good men who are dead...."

"They would not want to go up there if they lie under the ground throwing out flowers."

"Only hear this all-knowing fellow! Why they stay down there only till they are purified of sin, and then they mount and fly up there. Yes, I believe it, simpleton. Why, what can the stars be if they are not the souls of those who are saved? Do not you know that stars sometimes come down? I, I myself, have seen them fall; down, down, leaving a ray of light behind them. Yes, SeÑor, the stars come down when they have something to tell us here below."

"Oh, Nela!" Pablo exclaimed eagerly. "Your wild imaginings, absurd as they are, charm and captivate me, for they betray the innocence of your soul and the strength of your fancy. All your errors even are part of an earnest disposition to know the truth, and of great gifts, which would be very superior talents if they were cultivated by reason and education. You must acquire one precious accomplishment of which I am deprived—you must positively learn to read."

"To read!—And who is to teach me?"

"My father will; I will ask him to teach you. You know he never refuses me anything. What a pity it is you should live in such a wretched way; your mind is a mine of treasures. You are goodness and sweetness itself and have a lovely imagination. God has given you a large share of all the gifts that are in his store and part of himself; I know it well—I cannot see what is outside, but I can see within, and I know all the wonders of your spirit that you have shown me since you have been my guide.—It is a year and a half now, and it seems like yesterday, that we first began our walks together—and yet, no; I have known you a thousand years. How is it that there is such a close relationship between your feelings and mine? Just now, for instance, you have talked all sorts of extravagant nonsense, and I, who know the truth about the world and religion, I was stirred to enthusiasm as I listened to you. I feel as if it were a voice speaking in my own heart."

"Holy Mother!" exclaimed the girl, folding her hands. "And can he see something else that I feel?"

"What is that?"

"That I was put into the world expressly to be your lazarillo, and that my eyes would be of no use at all, if it were not to guide you and to tell you how beautiful the world is."

The blind boy turned his head suddenly and eagerly, and putting out his hands to touch the child by his side, he said anxiously:

"Tell me, Nela—what are you like?"

But Nela did not answer; the question was a stab to her heart.