tlessness and delirium had entirely disappeared. She felt so much
better that Miguel had no doubt that in four or five days she would be
up and about.

He was so excited by his excess of joy, that, being unable to stay in
the house, he went out to enjoy the coolness of the morning, although he
had been watching the night before. He took a turn through the Retiro;
the weather was cool and beautiful; the joy that filled his soul to
overflowing made him see in the bright sun, in the songs of the birds,
in the foliage of the trees, mysterious beauties which he had never
before realized. It was as much as he could do not to throw his arms
around the solitary pedestrians whom he met.

But alas! he did not know that the remedy that the doctors had
prescribed fulfilled its work merely in cooling the blood, and had not
the power of overcoming the malady. Toward the end of the afternoon her
temperature began to rise again. So deceived was he that he attributed
it to the natural increase that all diseases tend to show at that time
of day, and did not regard it with apprehension.

The doctor likewise said nothing that was calculated to alarm him. At
eleven o'clock he went to bed, leaving Juana to watch.

Her voice aroused him from the deep sleep in which he was plunged.

"Senorito! senorito! the senorita is worse."

The voice with which a man condemned to death is wakened never sounded
more terrible than this summons did to Miguel. He was on his feet in a
flash; he ran to her room. Maximina had her eyes shut. When he came in,
she opened them, tried to smile, and closed them again--never to open
them more!

It was four o'clock in the morning. Juana ran to summon the doctor,
first stopping at the opposite apartment. The colonel's widow insisted
that it was only a fainting fit; she and Miguel put on a mustard
poultice. The priest was sent for. In a few moments he arrived, at the
same time with the doctor.

What was the use?

Miguel walked ceaselessly up and down the corridor, pale as a ghost.
Soon he paused and wanted to enter his wife's room. The widow, the cure,
and the doctor, tried to keep him back.

"No; don't go in, Rivera!"

"I know all; let me pass!"

By his face and manner they knew that it was useless to oppose him.

He threw himself on his wife's form, from which as yet not all the
warmth and life had departed, and kissed her wildly for several
minutes.

"Enough! enough! you are only killing yourself," the