“She loves no one,” said the servant, candidly.
“How fortunate!”
“I am obliged to tell my noble lady everything I see or hear in the street, and everything I do or say.”
“In that case—”
“May God keep you!” said the servant, turning and running away so quickly that it would have been impossible to overtake him.
Señor Alonso was left behind with the money in his hand.
“Vive el cielo! Could anybody imagine such a thing?”
He had, however, the consolation of thinking that his words would reach the ears of the beautiful young girl, and that she would make him some sign if she should reciprocate his affection, or wish to correspond with him, and he was glad that fortune favored him so far that there was no rival in the case. Next day Señor Alonso went again to Las Infantas street, and was rewarded by seeing the young girl, who opened the balcony, put out her head and immediately disappeared. And the same thing happened day after day, and as Doña Sol always gave the gallant a glance, he was induced to think that she reciprocated his affection, although he expected still to have to surmount many difficulties. He came again at night to look at the house and sigh, and behaved in every respect like a beardless lad of seventeen. He had never been in love before, and now it had taken such firm hold of his heart that it would never leave it again. Señor Alonso regretted very much that he had never learned to play the guitar, and that his voice was not pleasant, for he was deprived of the pleasure of serenading his beloved. Pacheco was honorable, brave, and had a noble heart, his one fault being that his only solution of difficult questions was the sword. That was the result of his old training and soldier life. He had thought more than once that the best plan would be to scare the stupid servant with a cudgel, instead of offering him money, but fortunately he could not find an opportunity of carrying out his absurd resolution.
Now, let us say a few words about the black-eyed hidalgo. His name was Jacinto Carmona, he was from Sevilla, and he, too, had enough to live decently, although he was not rich, and spent all he had—and more too—in enjoying himself, and dressing as extravagantly as possible. At ten years old he had been left an orphan under the guardianship of a clergyman, a man of honor, but very strict and severe, who had always tried to do his duty in bringing up the orphan in the ways of virtue and training him to work and to be a useful man. He made him study Latin for five years, but could not accomplish anything more. The boy was as turbulent as possible, and the more severe the punishment, the more he rebelled, the result of which was that the good priest became so weary that he had finally to acknowledge himself conquered. The good man complained of his misfortune, but his young pupil complained still louder, asserting that he was the victim of exaggerated severity and the stale prejudices of his guardian.
“You can see for yourself,” he would say. “You have only to look at my clothes to see how I am treated. They have been worn out and mended so often that it would be hard to tell which was the original stuff. Didn’t my father leave me an income of six hundred ducats? Why shouldn’t I be dressed decently? And as for eating, even without counting fast days, how often do I get meat? Very seldom, indeed. For my uncle says that gluttony is a mortal sin, and whenever he wants to punish me he makes me do without breakfast, dinner, or supper, and as he wants to punish me pretty often, the result is that I fast half the days in the year. That’s the reason that I am so thin and pale and weak, and in the end I shall die, not from any disease, but from starvation. Though my uncle does say that I look that way on account of my sins, and that I would be possessed by an evil spirit, if it were not for his fervent prayers which the good Lord has heard.”