, closed it with
sealing-wax, and directed it; then he left it in his table drawer until
the next day, when he proposed sending it to its destination.

By this time night had come, and he went to bed without any desire to
eat supper. Sleep delayed her visit; the angel of desolation flapped her
pinions over his brow, and inspired him with the most terrific plans of
destruction. And doubtless at that very hour the algebra professor was
tranquilly sleeping without the slightest suspicion of the misfortune
overhanging him.

When this suggestion presented itself to Utrilla, he could not help
smiling in a most sinister fashion between the sheets.

At last Morpheus succeeded in overcoming him, but with no intention of
sending sweet and refreshing dreams; a thousand gloomy nightmares
tormented him all night long; from one o'clock till six in the morning
he battled with his enemy, using all the methods known at the present
day, and some of his own invention. Now he beheld himself facing the
hateful professor with a foil in his hand; the professor had wounded him
in the right hand, but nevertheless Utrilla, without a moment's
hesitation, exclaimed: "Come on. Use the left hand!" filling all the
witnesses full of admiration at his coolness. And with his left hand,
_zas!_ after a few thrusts he had buried the sword up to the hilt in his
body!

Then they appeared each with pistol in hand; the seconds give the signal
to aim; the professor fires, and his ball grazes his cheek; then he
aims, and keeps aiming, and the professor, now seeing death at hand,
falls on his knees and begs for his life; he grants his prayer, firing
into the air, but not without first saying scornfully: "And to think of
this man insulting Jacobo Utrilla!"

Divine Aurora, the goddess with the saffron veil, was already descending
the heights of Guadarrama, when the stripling awoke in the same
prophetic state of mind. Sad day that was now beginning to dawn for an
innocent family, for the algebra professor's six children, had not
Jupiter hastened to send to the hero's bolster his daughter Minerva in
the form of the housekeeper.

"Jacobito, my dear, will you be perishing of weakness, my child! Here I
have some chocolate and spiral cakes which you like so much."

The lad rubbed his eyes, cast an excessively severe look at the
chocolate which was so compassionately brought him, and made up his
mind to take it, but not before he had gnashed his teeth in such a
d