"Haven't you found anything to do?"
"Yes; that of assistant proof-reader in the printing-office just below here."
"How much salary?"
"Three pesetas a day."
"Jesus! Jesus!" exclaimed the apothecary, raising his hands to his head and remaining in a thoughtful attitude.
He had the delicacy not to ask him a question about his ruin. Nevertheless, Miguel of his own accord told him all, even to the smallest particulars. When Don Facundo had heard the whole story, he said:—
"See here, Miguel, I am going to ask a favor of you."
"You shall!"
"I want you to accept these six thousand reals[62];" and he laid the bills on the table. "I am an old bachelor: the money that I have is amply sufficient."
"Don Facundo, I cannot...."