lf constitutes a new voluptuousness. Luna,
influenced by the positivism of her race, was gazing into the future,
while Aguirre was content with the present moment, not caring to know
what would be the end of this love. Why trouble oneself imagining
obstacles!...

"I'm not like you, Luna. I have confidence in our lot. We'll marry and
travel about the world. Don't let that frighten you. Remember how I came
to know you. It was during the Feast of Tabernacles; you were eating
almost on foot, like those gypsies that wander over the earth and resume
their journey at the end of their meal. You come from a race of nomads
which even today roams the world. I arrived just in time. We'll leave
together; for I, too, am, because of my career, a wanderer. Always
together! We will be able to find happiness in any land whatsoever.
We'll carry springtime with us, the happiness of life, and will love
each other deeply."

Luna, flattered by the vehemence of these words, nevertheless contracted
her features into an expression of sadness.

"Child!" she murmured, with her Andalusian accent. "What sweet
illusions... my precious consul! But only illusions, after all. How are
we to marry? How can this be arranged?... Are you going to become a
convert to my religion?"

Aguirre started with surprise and looked at Luna with eyes that betrayed
his amazement.

"Man alive! I, turn Jew?..."

He was no model of pious enthusiasm. He had passed his days without
paying much attention to religion. He knew that the world contained many
creeds, but without doubt, as far as he was concerned, decent persons
the world over were all Catholics. Besides, his influential uncle had
warned him not to jest with these matters under penalty of hampering
advancement in his career.

"No. No, I don't see the necessity of that.... But there must be some
way of getting over the difficulty. I can't say what it is, but there
surely must be one. At Paris I met very distinguished gentlemen who were
married to women of your race. This can all be arranged. I assure you
that it shall be. I have an idea! Tomorrow morning, if you wish, I'll go
to see the chief Rabbi, your 'spiritual head,' as you call him. He seems
to be a fine fellow; I've seen him several times upon the street; a well
of wisdom, as your kind say. A pity that he goes about so unclean,
smelling of rancid sanctity!... Now don't make such a wry face. It's a
matter of minor importance! A little bit of soap can s