poor orphans, condemned
by the world because of their frivolity, saddened him beyond measure.
If the only sin of the Troyas, if the only pleasure which they had
to compensate them for solitude, poverty, and neglect, was to throw
orange-peels at the passers-by, they might well be excused for doing
it. The austere customs of the town in which they lived had perhaps
preserved them from vice, but the unfortunate girls lacked decorum and
good-breeding, the common and most visible signs of modesty, and
it might easily be supposed that they had thrown out of the window
something more than orange-peels. Pepe Rey felt profound pity for
them. He noted their shabby dresses, made over, mended, trimmed, and
retrimmed, to make them look like new; he noted their broken shoes--and
once more he put his hand in his pocket.

"Vice may reign here," he said to himself, "but the faces, the
furniture, all show that this is the wreck of a respectable family. If
these poor girls were as bad as it is said they are, they would not
live in such poverty and they would not work. In Orbajosa there are rich
men."

The three girls went back and forward between him and the window,
keeping up a gay and sprightly conversation, which indicated, it must
be said, a species of innocence in the midst of all their frivolity and
unconventionality.

"Senor Don Jose, what an excellent lady Dona Perfecta is!"

"She is the only person in Orbajosa who has no nickname, the only person
in Orbajosa who is not spoken ill of."

"Every one respects her."

"Every one adores her."

To these utterances the young man responded by praises of his aunt, but
he had no longer any inclination to take money from his pocket and say,
"Maria Juana, take this for a pair of boots." "Pepa, take this to buy a
dress for yourself." "Florentina, take this to provide yourself with a
week's provisions," as he had been on the point of doing. At a moment
when the three girls had run out to the balcony to see who was passing,
Don Juan Tafetan approached Rey and whispered to him:

"How pretty they are! Are they not? Poor things! It seems impossible
that they should be so gay when it may be positively affirmed that they
have not dined to-day."

"Don Juan, Don Juan!" cried Pepilla. "Here comes a friend of yours,
Nicolasito Hernandez, in other words, Cirio Pascual, with this
three-story hat. He is praying to himself, no doubt, for the souls of
those whom he has sent to the grave with his ex