THE park, wrapped in the shades of night, seemed like a forest; it was more grand and mysterious. The magnolias, cypresses, and araucarias that half covered the ground might be imagined cavaliers wrapped in their cloaks, silent and threatening. The foliage did not stir; the gravelled roads scarcely showed their whiteness; the footpaths were submissive to the darkness. We followed the first of these in a sort of vague disquiet, exchanging few words. The same emotion seemed to seal our lips and oppress our hearts. When I recall those first moments of that night and the overwhelming melancholy that oppressed me, I cannot help being a bit superstitious.

But if the darkness inspired sadness and a vague dread, the fragrances, some sweet, some keen, that filtered through the silent leaves, invited us to go farther. We inhaled, as we went on our way, a thousand delicious odors, from the scarcely perceptible breath of violets to the strong, dominating perfume of the magnolia.

On arriving at a certain place, a sort of little opening where the languorous, sensuous perfume of heliotrope dominated all others, Matilde made a gesture of pleasure. It was her favorite fragrance. She would not let us go any farther, and made us sit down on a rustic bench so that she could get her fill of it, as she said. But, unluckily, that perfume, subtle with Oriental love, immediately recalled to her memory the poetical image of her spouse. And, fascinated by this recollection, she entertained us for some time by relating the most interesting particulars of his domestic life—at what hour this extraordinary being got up in the morning, how soon afterwards a glass of water with lemon in it was introduced into his precious organism, how many slices of toast he took with his coffee, how many pipes he smoked, how he walked about the house, and even how, every Thursday, he took magnesia to cleanse and purify this splendid work of nature.

As if in sympathy with her enthusiasm, and desiring to give testimony to the admiration that such a rare and beautiful subject inspired, a gentle light suddenly shone over the place. We turned our eyes towards the sea, and saw the moon coming up above its quiet waves. The waters smiled; in the park the silver, smooth leaves of the magnolias, the silky-whiteness of the roses, the tops of the cannas and laurels glittered in luminous points of light. The darkness fled away into the depths of the thickets, forming dense, impenetrable masses. Soon the moonlight began penetrating these also, as the moon rose higher in the azure vault, scattering golden rays.

Matilde, who was reminded by everything in heaven or on earth of Sabas, thought that it was now time to get his bed ready for him, and asked us to come into the house. Isabelita did not wish to go so soon. The night was delicious; she would stay alone with me. I did not wish to say anything about the unusualness of this, to disturb her angelic innocence. We sat for some moments on the same bench, chatting about indifferent matters.

I was not long, however, in bringing the conversation to our projected marriage. It interested her immensely. She must have six dozen of chemises, and four of petticoats, and three of this, and eight of that. I could not help her much in all that. I was absent-minded or critical, and, without knowing why, responded but poorly and with little tact when she consulted me. But my attention was held when the child began to talk about our house, and the expenses it would occasion, and the expenditures we must count upon to furnish it. I was surprised at the ease and capacity wherewith she discussed economic subjects. She not only understood what concerned her father's business, but also exchange, discounting bills, stocks, and so on. For some time I listened with amazement while she discussed the probable rise of certain public stocks that her father had recently bought, of the transferring of others that he held, of the sudden fall of the stock of the tobacco company, of treasury bonds, and a thousand other things of whose existence I scarcely knew. This financial erudition did not impress me agreeably. I understood the necessity of a woman's having some knowledge of affairs in order to rule over her house properly; but so much mercantile knowledge shocked my temperament, which was not at all practical, and, more yet, the idea it gave me of this young creature. It seemed impossible that such old words could issue from such youthful lips.

But this was not the only thing. Going on from one thing to another with strange smartness, the child reached the point of inquiring the amount of my capital. I did not try to hide it from her. At the first hint I told her, with complete clearness, one house, a little land, a few bonds of the company in whose service I had been—about sixty thousand dollars all reckoned.

Isabelita kept silence a moment.

"It isn't much," she said at last, with a certain antagonistic inflection I did not know in her.

And, after another pause, she added, with a forced smile:

"My father thought that you were much richer."

"But you perceive how mistaken he was," I said, with a smile still more forced. "We are almost always deceived about others, sometimes thinking them richer than they are, sometimes more noble."

This was all that I said. I felt an enormous, overwhelming repugnance, almost a nausea. In one instant I had made up my mind. I would not marry this self-hawker, with her angelic profile, for all the treasures of earth.

And, curiously, as soon as I made this resolution, I felt at peace and almost happy. I felt as if I had thrown off a great load. So, to the surprise of Retamoso's daughter, who had remained thoughtful, and a little put out by my words, I began to show myself gay and never more merry.

But the evening was advancing, and as I was not interested in conversation, and wished to be alone and think over the proper method for breaking off with her, I proposed that we should return to the house. As we got up we heard a murmur as of people coming; we did not know any other way except to sit down again. Castell and Cristina sailed into the little open space. From the darkness of the place where we were sitting, we could see them plainly, for the moonlight completely enveloped them. I perceived at once that the conversation was a serious one. He came along smiling, bending his head insinuatingly towards her, to talk close to her ear. Cristina was pale, with frowning brow, her gaze hard, and fixed on space. I wished to get up at once, but Isabelita held me back. They passed before us without seeing us. As for him, we could not hear him, because he spoke very low; but some of her words reached our ears distinctly.

"There is nothing more to be said about that."

This sentence, uttered with unusual energy, impressed us forcibly. Isabelita grasped my wrist with a nervous hand and stood up to follow them. And, truly, if curiosity excited her, my own was no less; but as I knew where that would lead me, and as it seemed to me indecorous to surprise such a secret, I tried to stop her. It was useless. The girl pulled away from me, and was off after them. I followed also, determining to do something to attract their attention in some way. But by this time I could no longer see Isabelita. I went forward in the darkness, which was there very dense, guided only by the sound of their voices. In a few moments I realized that Castell and Cristina had stopped. I still advanced and saw that they were in a glorieta, or arbor, formed by four great laurels, planted a little distance apart, whose branches interlaced. I approached with a cautious step. Isabelita was outside the arbor with her ear glued to the branches. When I came up to her, she flashed one hand over my mouth and the other arm about my neck so hard that she hurt me. I was stupefied by such violence, whose reason I could not imagine. Weakly, and because I thought it would save Cristina's modesty, I remained passive and quiet.

"Perhaps you consider," said Castell, "my patience of several years, my sufferings, the silent, constant service I have given you, a mere caprice. Perhaps you suppose that my self-love is concerned in this rather than a deep, irresistible passion. Have I not an equal right to suppose that the disdain with which you have so many times humiliated me is the work of pride and of obstinacy more than of virtue?"

"You may suppose whatever you like. The way you judge me—"

"I know you," interrupted Castell. "Nobody could be more charming. I have never found a woman whose beauty and whose character appeared to me more interesting and worthy of admiration."

I heard a slight sniff of disdain and then these words:

"I would prefer you to admire me less, and let me live more at peace. But it is not about this that I wish to talk at present. I consented to come out with you, and find myself here at this improper hour, at the risk of my husband's honor, which is dearer to me than life, because I see a way to solve the problem of my life. Rich or poor, happy or disgraced, I am resolved to live in honor and peace."

Nobody can imagine exactly what went on within me at that moment. The horrible suspicions, almost certainties, which had smeared the image of my idol, fled like black spectres. I saw her again in all her purity, with an aureole of virtue that was her glory and charm. A celestial happiness descended into my heart. All my body trembled, seized with an irresistible emotion.

"You might search everywhere, you might look the wide world over, for one whose happiness concerns me more than your own, and you could not find one," said Castell.

"That is very little to say," replied Cristina with a sarcastic accent.

"Because you think that nothing on earth moves me or interests me, don't you? There you are wrong. Before I gave rein to this disgraceful passion, I lived in a state of perpetual interest in all things. Cities, mountains, rivers, the ocean, society, art, passing affections, everything moved me and attracted me. To-day all these things are objects of loathing in my eyes. Barren boredom, a wearing contempt, and a causeless weariness dog me everywhere, surrounding me like poisonous vapors. All the nerves of my life are parched—except one. When this is stirred, my being trembles, my faculties are roused, the horrible spell that binds me is broken, and daylight breaks upon my spirit——"

"Better say night. A bad conscience has need of night."

"Conscience always stops on the steps of the temple of love. Did you ever know anyone who, truly in love with a woman, devoured by desire for her, has been hindered by conscience? I know nobody. If any human being came to me with a tale like that, I should tell him frankly that he lied. No mouse ever hesitated before cheese; no man before a woman, in fear of his conscience."

"All the worse for men if that is so. But I repeat it is not about this that I wish to speak at this moment. At the risk of your carrying out your half-veiled threats, I am resolved to put an end to this persecution, and it shall be ended. Indeed, it shall be ended!"

"Do you know one thing, Cristina? I have come to think that you enjoy being obstinate rather than virtuous."

"Do you know another thing, Castell? I have always thought that there is no love whatever in your make-up, but, instead, a monstrous vanity that has need of satisfying itself at the cost of the honor and happiness of your best friend."

"If there was nothing in me but vanity, how long would it have taken it to be revenged upon this scorn, these insults? I doubt if there is a woman in the world who knows how better to cut the heart with a gesture, envenom the soul, and fill it with mad anger by a glance. I am persuaded that you cannot love, but only scorn, a man. If you condescend to your husband, it is because he is a poor, miserable thing who doesn't dare hold up his head in your presence."

"Spare your insults! This is well! If you had always talked like this, I should have been saved much pain. Now let us come to the other matter. It is absolutely necessary that from this night henceforth you must cease to mortify me, either with words, looks, or hints of any kind. It is absolutely necessary that, if you cannot treat me with respect as the wife of your friend, I should be to you as any indifferent person. And, further, I am resolved, thinking everything over, to give an account of what has passed to my husband."

"This is decreed?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"This is decreed!" she said angrily.

There was a pause.

"And are you not afraid," he asked at last, speaking slowly, "if following upon the thousand tortures and humiliations that you have made me suffer, and my despair of ever being successful with you, if no compassion follows, that my love might be turned into hate, and that I take means that the event which overthrows me should engulf you and yours in yet more frightful ruin?"

"No, I am not afraid," she replied with fiery pride.

"You do well. I shall not take any revenge whatever."

"You may do it if you choose," she interrupted him impetuously. "Emilio is a man who likes luxuries and comforts, I know, but he cares very much more for his wife and his honor. If the alternative were offered him, he would give his fortune gladly, if not also his life. So you may ruin him as soon as you please. If nothing is left us, we two can go to work. But when he finds himself in somebody's office as a humble clerk, nobody can come up to him and call him a complaisant husband; and when I go through the streets, the people in Valencia may lean out of their balcony windows and say: 'This poor woman that we see there with a basket on her arm used to have her carriage and go dressed in her silks;' but they shall not say, I swear it, 'She who goes yonder is a prostitute.'"

Her voice sank as she uttered the word. I felt my throat constrict.

"Oh, oh! this is too much!" exclaimed Castell.

"Yes." She repeated the word firmly. "And it is all the same whether one sells oneself for fear or to get money."

"Pardon me, Cristina, but it seems to me that you are giving the conversation rather a romantic turn. 'A basket on her arm.' This is folly! I call your good judgment in against such nonsense. Here is a man who loves you with all the strength of his soul, who to win your love would be capable of making any sacrifice, even of his life. You have already taken away all my hope, and, in abandoning the contest, at least don't make me out a seducer in a novel of the kind that stirs up the wrath of dressmakers."

"Let us stop talking. I cannot stay here any longer," she said. I could see that she stood up.

"Yes, let us put an end to it. I give up trying for you, but not loving you. I renounce the idea of vengeance, as I have told you. But understand, however, that this is only a truce. My hopes that you will love me some day will not be banished. Separated from you, I shall wait with patience for a time when our paths shall cross again and I shall offer you the poor heart that you have coldly trampled upon."

"Very well. Good-by."

Castell also stood up. More by Cristina's next words than by what I could really see, I understood that he was holding her.

"Let me go!"

"Before you go, I want the reward that my sacrifice merits. Let me kiss these glorious eyes."

"Let me go!" she repeated forcibly and fiercely.

"I have renounced all," he said as energetically, but lowering his voice; "but I swear to you I will not renounce this kiss, if it costs me my life."

"Let me go, or I shall scream."

"Scream as much as you like. If you want to make a scandal and perhaps kill your husband—his death for one kiss—I am willing."

At that moment I entered the glorieta and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Who is it? Who goes there?" he exclaimed, giving a jump that separated him widely from Cristina.

"There is no need of being alarmed. It's me."

"And who are you?" he replied, drawing a revolver and pointing it at me.

"Keep your gun for thieves, or hold it in readiness for some traitor who, abusing the confidence reposed in him, tries to seize upon honor and happiness. There are no thieves or traitors here."

"If there are no thieves, there are at least persons about devoting themselves to overhearing private conversations. But for such persons a whip would be more suitable than a revolver," he returned in sarcastic tones.

"Keep your sarcasms likewise for a more opportune occasion. Nobody here has tried to overhear conversations. They are heard when they come to one's ears, and I am sincerely sorry that I was here at this time to hear them. If I had been asleep in my bed, I should have avoided the sorrow of entering into the foul and hidden corners of the human conscience."

"You lie!" he cried, coming wrathfully towards me. "You were spying upon us. How can you talk of foulness when you are sunk in filth yourself? You have been spying upon us, I repeat it. I have seen you doing that for some time past. By what right do you follow our steps and pretend to interfere in the affairs of this family, you who are an outsider?"

"An outsider interferes when he sees anyone is in need of help," I replied calmly. "Moreover, I have not the habit of following any path, except those of the ocean currents. I have not insulted you, and you have no right to insult me as you have been doing."

Then he, perhaps taking my calmness for cowardice, or possibly wishing to provoke a violent scene, so as to extricate himself from his difficulty, grabbed me by the lapels of my coat, shook me, and bringing his threatening face up to mine, yelled:

"Yes, seÑor, you have followed us, and I will not endure it. Do you hear? Yes, I have insulted you, and why? Are you not satisfied with one insult? Then here goes for another."

I caught his arm in air. I caught hold of the other one also, and holding him like a vise, because here my greater muscular strength was of service, gave him several shakings and forced him backwards into the foliage of the arbor.

A voice sounded in my ears:

"Give up, Enrique, give up! Don't risk your life for anybody!"

I paused, stupefied. My fingers relaxed their hold and released their captive. Turning my head, I saw before me the virginal figure of Isabelita. Yes, it was she.

"Thank you very much," I said smiling.

But I was of no consequence. She did not even glance my way. With an agitated countenance, her eyes fixed upon Castell, she took his hand and led him out of the glorieta.