María was speechless.
“Well then,” said Leon with unwonted vehemence. “I am tired of having no home. I am determined to have one.”
“And is not this your home? For my part I am always here,” said María, as coldly as though she spoke with a mouth full of snow.
“This my home! And what are you? Harsh, thorny and repellent! Henceforth....”
“You have only to command, and yet you are far more agitated than I; my resignation gives me self-control, while with all your haughty tyranny you tremble and turn pale! In one word Leon, what would you have?”
“I am going to leave Madrid. That is imperatively necessary.”
“What is the matter?”
“I do not want ... I cannot stay here; I have no comfort, no affection in my own house; I have no one to care for me, since the companion of my life, instead of surrounding me with gentleness and tenderness and fondness, has shut herself up in an icy shroud. She, in the delirium of her exaggerated pietism, and I, in the gloomy solitude of my scepticism, are not, and can never be, a sympathetic and happy pair. Some men might be able to vegetate in this barren, arid atmosphere; I cannot. My soul cannot be fed with study only; however, as it can have no other nourishment, it is forced to be content with that.”
“And why can you not study here?”
“Here!” exclaimed Leon, amazed at the proposal. “I cannot stay here. I have told you already that I am going away.”