ies in the business
office, he could not pay it down. Our hero worked a whole month for
nothing. At the beginning of the next, as it was absolutely necessary
for him to pay certain sums, Miguel asked him to let him have some
money.

Then the owner and manager, adopting that air half complaining and half
diplomatic, which all assume who are about to refuse a just but
unwelcome claim, painted in the darkest colors the business situation of
the daily, the difficulty of collecting certain sums that were due him,
the necessity which all editors have of "putting their shoulders to the
wheel in order to sustain a young enterprise," etc., etc.

"Friend Huerta," replied Miguel, very much dissatisfied, "hunger has
made me altogether too weak to be able to put my shoulder to any new
enterprise; on the contrary, _I_ need to be propped up myself so as not
to fall."

It was impossible to get a penny from him. Our hero took his leave, full
of indignation, the more because he happened to know that all the money
taken in went straight into the director's private box, and that he used
it to lead the life of a prince.

Now began for the young pair a gloomy and trying time. Miguel was unable
any longer to hide his necessities. One by one the few objects of value
which they had in the house went to the pawn-shop, where they brought
scarcely the fifth part of their value. Oftentimes the young man
despaired and cursed his lot, and even spoke of going and firing a shot
at the Count de Rios and another at Mendoza.

Maximina, in these painful crises, consoled him, cheered him with new
hope, and when this resource failed, she succeeded in softening him
with her tears and driving away from him all his evil thoughts. Always
serene and cheerful, she made heroic attempts to divert him, calling to
her aid the little one, when worst came to worst; she carefully
concealed the toil which in his absence she undertook so as not to let
him see that there was anything at fault when he came.

Poverty, nevertheless, was pressing closer and closer around them each
day. At last the day came that actually they had not a peseta in the
house and knew not where to get another. At the grocery store they were
not willing to let them have goods on credit.

Miguel, without his wife's knowledge, took one of his coats, wrapped it
up in paper and carried it to a pawn-shop: they would give only two
duros for it. On his return, as he was meditating how to escape from