afterward raised her handkerchief to her
eyes. She gave him no other answer. And nothing more happened, just
then.

* * * * *

During the monotonous passage of a few more days, Manolo Berlanga
gradually realized that Rafaela had big, expressive eyes, small feet
with high insteps and a most pleasant walk. He noted that her breasts
were firm and full; and he even thought he could detect in her an
extremely coquettish desire to appear attractive in his eyes. At the end
of it all, the silversmith fully understood his own intentions, which
caused him both joy and fear.

"She's got me going," he thought. "She's certainly got me going! Say,
I'm crazy about that woman!"

At last, one evening, the ill-restrained passion of the man burst into
an overwhelming torrent. On that very night, Zureda was going to come
home. Hardly had Manolo Berlanga left the shop when he hurried to his
lodgings. He had no more than reached the front room when--no longer
able to restrain his evil thoughts--he asked:

"Has Amadeo got here, yet?"

"He'll be here in about fifteen minutes," answered Rafaela. "It's nine
o'clock, now. The train's already in. I heard it whistle."

Berlanga entered the dining-room and saw that the young woman was making
up his bed. He approached her.

"Want any help?" he asked.

"No, thanks!"

Suddenly, without knowing what he was about, he grabbed her round the
waist. She tried to defend herself, turning away, pushing him from her.
But, kissing her desperately, he murmured:

"Come now, quick, quick--before he gets here!"

Then, after a brief moment of silent struggle:

"Darling! Don't you see? It had to be this way----!"

The wife of Zureda did not, in fact, put up much of a fight.

* * * * *

A year later, Rafaela gave birth to a boy. Manolo Berlanga stood
godfather for it. Both Rafaela and Amadeo agreed on naming it Manolo
Amadeo Zureda. The baptism was very fine; they spent more than two
thousand _reals_[B] on it.

[B] About $100.

How pink-and-white, how joyous, how pretty was little Manolin! The
engineer, congratulated by everybody, wept with joy.

III

Little Manolo was nearly three years old. He had developed into a very
cunning chap, talkative and pleasant. In his small, plump, white face,
that looked even whiter by contrast with the dead black of his hair, you
could see distinctive characteristics of several persons. His