in tears. He felt convinced that
his answers, somewhat mysterious, had duly impressed the girl. Yes, they
had been good. Now his conduct must back up his words, or he would lose
all his gains. Boastingly he had pledged himself to something very
serious. Nothing but ridicule could fall on him, if he failed to make
good his offer. This meant he must go through, to the bitter end.

"Yes, I will become a thief," he pondered.

Calmer now, he took his way to his tavern, where he ate a peaceful
supper, and went home and early to bed. He slept well, with that peace
which irrevocable decisions produce in minds long racked by stress and
storm. It was noon when he awoke. He got up at once, put on clean
clothes and wrote his father a quiet letter that contained nothing
except his studies. Then he tied up all his books and went down to the
street with them enveloped in a big kerchief.

"They've all got to be sold," thought he. "If I'm caught, I'll need
money. If I get away and nothing is ever found out about me, I can get
them back, some time."

After having disposed of the books, he went to a fashionable restaurant
and had rather a fine dinner. In all these little details, so different
from the order and simplicity of his usual life, you could have seen a
certain sadness of farewell. After dinner, he went to drink coffee on
the terrace of the Lion d'Or, and stayed a while there, observing the
women. Many, he saw, were beautiful. As yet he had decided nothing
definite about what he meant to do. He preferred to let things take
their own, impromptu course. Sometimes great battles are best decided
off-hand, on the march, in the imminent presence of danger.

At exactly six o'clock he got up, crossed the Calle de Sevilla and went
through the Carrera de San Jeronimo toward the Puerta del Sol. The
street-lamps and the lights in the shops had not yet begun to burn. It
was an April evening; a cool, fresh, damp breeze wafted through the
streets. Far to the west, shining in rosy space, Venus was shedding her
eternal beams. Darles went peacefully along, his calm movements in
harmony with the perfect equanimity that had taken possession of him.
When he reached the Ministerio de la Gobernacion, he stopped a while to
watch the street-cars, the carriages, the crowds circulating about him.
Then the idea that, before long, these people would catch him, rose in
his mind once more.

"To-morrow," thought he, "I'll be seeing nothing of all this."