That worthy, SeÑor Centeno, having refreshed his mind with the dull columns of his newspaper, and 'SeÑana,' his wife, after enjoying the more intoxicating delights of counting and feeling the coin in the stocking, had taken themselves to bed. Children first and parents after, they had all marched off to their respective couches. First there was the mumbled Litany, sounding like some muttered gibberish; then yawns, while the sluggard fingers made the sign of the cross—and then the stony-hearted family slept.

When the house was as still as the grave itself, a soft rustling began to be audible in the kitchen, like the stirring of bats coming out of their hiding nooks to see life. The hampers opened and Celipin heard these words:

"Celipin—look here; I have got something nice for you to-night."

Celipin could see nothing, but he put out his hand and took from Nela's two duros. Having assured himself of their genuineness by touch—since he could hardly have done so by sight—he remained speechless with astonishment.

"Don Teodoro gave them to me," added the girl, "to buy myself a pair of shoes. But I do not want shoes; so I give them to you, and so you will get on faster."

"Hurrah! You are as good as the Holy Virgin, Nela—I want very little more now, and when I have got another half-dozen or so of reales—you shall see what Celipin is made of."

"Aye, and listen to me, child; the man who gave me that money ran about the streets barefoot begging when he was a boy, and now...."

"You do not mean it! Don Teodoro? And now he has such lots of money. They say six mules could not carry it all."

"Yes, and he slept in the streets, and was an errand boy, and had no breeches—in short, was poorer than a rat. And his brother, Don CÁrlos, lived in an old-clothes shop."

"Lord save us! What wonderful things we live to hear of! Well, I will go and find an old-clothes shop where I can live."

"Well, and after that he became a barber to earn a living and be able to study."

"Ah...! Look here then; I have a great mind to go straight into a barber's shop; I shall soon have to shave myself, and I am brisk and quick enough, thank God!—Only wait till I get to Madrid—shaving on one hand and studying on the other, at the end of two months I will know everything. Look here, it has just struck me that I am made to be a doctor.—Yes, a doctor, what with feeling pulses and looking at tongues, that is the way to fill your pockets."

"Don Teodoro," Nela went on, "had much less than you, for you will soon have five duros, and with five duros, you can get almost everything. Don Teodoro and Don CÁrlos were like the birds that fly about without house or home, all alone in the world. Well, by managing well, they got learned. Don Teodoro studied dead bodies, and Don CÁrlos studied stones, and so they learnt to be gentlemen, and men of importance. And that is why Don Teodoro is such a friend to the poor. Celipin, you should have seen him this evening when he jumped me upon his shoulder—and then he gave me his cup of milk and looked at me as if I were a lady."

"All strong, active men, are the same," said Celipin sharply. "You will see how brave and fine I shall look when I wear a long cloak and a high hat; and I will wear those stockings on my hands—gloves they call them, and never take them off excepting to feel a pulse—I will have a stick with a gilt knob and will wear such clothes! nothing shall ever touch my skin but fine linen. Lord love you child! but you will laugh to see me!"

"Do not be fancying that you can rise to such things at once—you who are as bare as an egg," said the girl. "You must go step by step, learning one thing to-day and another to-morrow. I advise you, before you learn to cure sick folks, to learn to write; and so you ought, if it is only to leave a letter for your mother, asking her to forgive you, and telling her that you are gone away from home to improve yourself, to make your way like Don Teodoro, and become a clever doctor."

"Do not talk nonsense child. Who does not know that writing comes first? Only let me get a pen in my hand, and you will see me flourish away at the letters, and what beautiful fine strokes I will make up and down, like Don Francisco PenÁguilas' name at the end of a letter.—Write? do not talk to me—in four days you will see what letters I will write.—Aye, you shall hear them read and see what grand ideas I can hatch out, and set them down too, in such fine words as will make you all look foolish. Bless you child! but you have no notion how clever I can be. I feel it inside my head here, buzzing and humming, burumbum, burumbum, like the water in the boiler of a steam-engine. It will not let me sleep, and I feel as if all the sciences in the world came rushing in and flapped blindly about like bats, wanting me to study them.—All the sciences—I must learn them all; I must not leave out one.—Well, you will see."

"But there must be a great many. Pablo PenÁguilas knows them all, and he told me that there are a great, great many, and that a man's whole lifetime is not enough to learn even one."

"Never do you believe him.—Well, you will see what I can do."

"And the best of all is what Don CÁrlos learns; why, only think, he picks up a stone and makes brass of it; indeed, they do say he makes silver, and even gold. Learn that science, Celipillo."

"Do not you be mistaken, Nela; there is nothing like knowing how to take a wrist and look at a tongue, and tell in a minute in what corner of a body the mischief lies. They say that Don Teodoro can take a man's eye out and put him in a new one, that he can see with as well as if he had been born with it. Just think what it is to see a man dying, and to make him hale and sound again only by making him swallow half-a-dozen flies, let us say, stewed down on a Monday with hazel twigs gathered by a maid named Juana—I say that is something worth doing.—Yes, you shall see, you shall see what I will do. Doctor Celipin de Socartes. I tell you my fame will reach as far as Havana."

"Good, good!" cried Nela, delighted. "But remember, you must be a good boy, because the reason your parents have taught you nothing, is only because they were not clever enough, and so, as you are clever, you must pray for them to the Holy Virgin, and not forget to send them some of all the money you are going to get."

"I will be sure to send them some. You see, it is not because I owe them any grudge that I am going to run away; and before long, very soon, you will see a porter come up from the station so loaded with big parcels that he can hardly stand, and what will they be? Why, petticoats for mother and the girls, and a tall hat for father—and you—I will send you a pair of ear-rings."

"You are in a hurry with your presents," said Nela, smothering a laugh. "Ear-rings for me!"

"Stop; I have just got another idea. Shall I tell you? It is that you should come with me; two of us together we should help each other to earn money and to learn. For you are clever too, I am too sharp not to see that; and you can learn to be a lady as I can to be a gentleman. Oh Lord! how I should laugh to see you playing the piano like DoÑa SofÍa."

"What a simpleton you are! Why I am no good for anything. If I went with you, I should only be a clog and burden to you."

"But they say now that Don Pablo is going to be made to see, and when he can see, you will have nothing to do in Socartes. What do you think of my plan? Why do not you answer?"

There was a long pause, during which Nela made no answer. Celipin asked her again but got no answer.

"Go to sleep, Celipin," she said from the bottom of the baskets. "I am dreadfully sleepy."

"If my brain will let me sleep, God save us!"

And a minute later he was dreaming of himself in the semblance of Don Teodoro Golfin, fixing new eyes in old sockets, splitting open fragments of rock, and snatching sick men from the jaws of death by means of doses of flies, stewed on a Monday, with hazel twigs picked by a maiden. He saw himself dressed with gorgeous garments, his hands encased in perfumed gloves, and riding in a coach drawn by swans instead of horses, invited by Kings and courted by Queens, attending ladies of distinction, lauded by nobles, and carried in triumph by all the peoples of the earth.