"Well, then," he said, with an indulgent smile, "confess yourself to me; don't be afraid, I will give you absolution—go on!"
"I really should like to make 'a clean breast of it,' and tell you everything."
"That is the way,—speak."
"I have formed an idea, although I do not know why, that you have not always been as happy as you are now, and that it has been by long misfortunes that you have purchased the blessings you at present enjoy."
A melancholy smile passed over his lips.
"Pardon me!" I cried eagerly; "pardon the indiscretion I have committed! What I feared has come to pass! Let there be no more question between us, I conjure you, of my silly fancy!"
I was really very much hurt at reflecting on my impertinence.
Don Rafaël replied to me with kindness.
"Why not?" he said; "I see nothing indiscreet in your question; it arises solely from the interest you have conceived for us: it is only when we love people that we become so clear-sighted. No, my friend, you are not wrong, we have all undergone a rude trial. Since you desire it, you shall know all; and perhaps you will confess, after having heard the recital of what we have suffered, that we have indeed purchased dearly the happiness we enjoy. But let us go in; they are probably waiting for us to sit down to table."
That evening Don Rafaël retained several members of the family round him, and, after having ordered cigarettes and some wine to be placed upon the table, he said,—