can't love any one," she often said. "I've made a regular man of
myself."

Since the human mind cannot long remain unoccupied by real emotions, she
had come to adore luxury. She was neither miserly nor greedy for money;
but she did indeed love purple and fine linen, noisy hats and precious
stones glimmering with sunlight. Her idea of life was to buy good
furnishings, appear in new gowns, show herself off, waste everything
without restraint. With her pretty hands, now craving money and now
throwing it to the four winds, she made ducks and drakes of men's
fortunes. She had many things and wanted more; and as one quickly tires
of what one has, her property did not increase.

The young woman was in high dudgeon, that evening. She knew not what to
do. Her money was running short, and that morning in a bazaar she had
seen all kinds of pretty gewgaws. She had taken up a book to amuse
herself, but had not been able to read much. Her irritation would not go
away. Why couldn't she be infinitely rich? Already she was beginning to
consider this poor life of ours a grotesque affair--this life in which
so many men think themselves happy in the possession of the
ten-millionth part of what they really want.

It was almost seven o'clock when Enrique Darles arrived. As soon as
Alicia saw the student, she heaved a sigh of contentment and threw the
book into the fire.

"What are you doing, there?" cried Darles, to whom every book was
sacred.

"Nothing," she answered. "It's a stupid novel. We ought to do the same
with everything that bores us."

Enrique sat down and asked:

"Don Manuel--?"

"He's been here a while, but he's gone. I mean, I sent him away. I tell
you I'm unbearable, to-day. I'd like to fight with everybody. I don't
know what I wouldn't give to feel some new sensation--something real and
strong. I'm in despair, I tell you! It's these nerves, these cursed
nerves, that wake up everything ugly and vulgar in us. To-day is one of
the black days when even the good luck of our friends makes us
miserable."

She stopped and peered closely at Darles. His close-shaven face, his
southern eyes and wavy black hair made him look like some handsome,
gentle boy.

"I'm strange," she continued. "I'm a chatter-box, ungrateful and never
able to love anything very long. That's why you attracted my attention
the first minute. You look like a man of strong passions. I like radical
characters, good or bad. I like iron wills. Lukewarm tem