"Never propose anything like that to me again. I accept your attentions at times so as not to see you breaking your heart at my refusal, but that you should clothe me and support me—no, that is too much."
Half an hour later the schoolmistress renewed her entreaties affectionately, availing herself of the opportunity, seeing the Swan somewhat pensive. Between him and her there ought to be no mine or thine. Why should he hesitate to accept what it afforded her so great a pleasure to give? Did her future by chance depend upon those few paltry dollars? With them he could present himself decently at Las Vides, publish his verses, go to Madrid. It would make her so happy to see him triumph, eclipse Campoamor, Nuñez de Arce, and all the rest! And what was there to prevent Segundo from returning her the money, and with interest, too? Talking thus, Leocadia filled a handkerchief tied at the four corners with ounces and doblillos and centenes and handed it to the poet, saying in a voice rendered husky by her emotion:
"Will you slight me?"
Segundiño took the unbeautiful, ungraceful head of the schoolmistress between his hands, and looking fixedly in the eyes that looked at him humid with happiness he said:
"Leocadia, I know that you are the one human being in this world who loves me truly."
"Segundiño, my life," she stammered, beside herself with happiness, "it isn't worth mentioning. Just as I give you that—as I hope for salvation—I would give you the blood from my veins!"
And what would Aunt Gáspara have said had she known that several of the ounces from the stocking, the savings-bank, the sack, and the bag would return immediately, loyal and well-trained, to sleep, if not under the rafters of the cellar, at least under the roof of Don Justo?