e vaguely felt, however, that all this
held some kind of humiliation for him. Suddenly, like one who clutches
at a saving idea, Alicia exclaimed:

"What time is it?"

"Quarter past one."

"Well then, see here. Let's go to Las Ventas, or La Bombilla. The same
carriage that takes us out can bring us back."

"Well--it----"

He hesitated, knowing not how to confess his absurdity, how to own up to
the enormous, unpardonable stupidity of being poor. At last he made up
his mind to speak, wounded by the questions of Alicia, who by no means
understood his uncertainty.

"You know, I--forgive me, but--I haven't got money enough," said he.

"What a boy you are!" she answered. "Why, you don't need hardly any, at
all. Haven't you even got, say, two hundred pesetas?"

"Two hundred pesetas!" stammered Enrique, horror-stricken. "No, no, I
haven't."

"Well, a hundred, then?"

"No."

"All right. Come, tell me. How much _have_ you got?"

Enrique would have gladly died. Gnawing his lips with desperation, he
answered:

"I've hardly got ten left."

She burst out laughing, one of those frank, bold laughs such as perhaps
she had never known since the time when some rich man, setting her feet
on the path of sin, had taken from her the gentle happiness of being
poor.

"And you were talking about going to Fornos?" she demanded.

Enrique answered, in shame:

"I'm not good enough for you, Alicia! I'm not worthy of you! I'll take
you home."

The girl answered, charmed by the bohemian novelty of the adventure:

"Never mind about the money. I want to have something to eat with you.
Take me to some tavern or other, some cheap little dive. It's all
right."

He still hesitated. She insisted. The terror of falling from her good
graces enfolded him.

"What if the food is bad, and you don't like it?" he asked.

"Fool! I don't want luxury, to-night. I want memories of other times.
Was I always rich, do you think?"

"Well, in that case----"

"Yes, yes, take me along! Show me something of your life!"

Arm in arm they went down the street. Their feet kept time, together.
Feverishly he repeated:

"Alicia! Oh, my Alicia!"

Then, as he buried his white and trembling lips in the hair of the
greatly desired one, it seemed to him that all Madrid was filled with
perfumes of fresh violets.

III

Some days drifted by, after that unforgettable night, without Darles
getting any chance to see Alicia. Several afternoons he we