"Ah! that is another affair," replied Leandro; "the matter is by no means so wonderful as I imagined. But tell me, if you please, who is that young man that is skipping about like a kid in the next room, and from time to time stopping to laugh until he holds his sides? He is a lively fool enough." "Yes," replied the Cripple, "and it was excess of joy which made him mad. He was porter to a person of quality; when one day, hearing of the death of a rich contador, to whose wealth he was sole heir, he was so affected by the joyous news that his head was not proof against his good fortune. "We have now come to that tall youth who is twanging the guitar, and accompanying the pathetic strain with his voice: his is a melancholy madness. He is a lover, whom the excessive severity of his mistress reduced to despair, until they were obliged to enclose him here." "Alas! how I pity him," exclaimed the Student; "permit me to express my sorrow for his misfortune;--it is one to which every susceptible heart is exposed. Were it my own fate to love a disdainful beauty, I know not but that I too should love to madness." "I can believe you," replied the Demon: "that sentiment would stamp you for a true Castilian. One must be born in the centre of that ancient kingdom to be capable of loving until reason sinks with a despised heart. Your Frenchman is not so tender; and would you appreciate the difference between a gay Parisian and a fiery Spaniard in this respect, I need only repeat to you the song which yon poor fool is singing, and which his passion inspires even at this moment: SPANISH SONG. 'Mine eyes gush o'er with floods of wild desire, And hopeless love burns fiercely in my breast; Yet not my tears can quench my bosom's fire, Nor passion's fire my scalding tears arrest.'[4] [4] 'Ardo y lloro sin sosiego: Llorando y ardiendo tanto, Que ni el llanto apaga el fuego, Ni el fuego consume el llanto.' "It is thus sings a true Castilian whom his lady slights; and now I will repeat to you the words in which a Frenchman told his griefs, in a similar case, only a few days ago: FRENCH SONG. 'She who within my bosom reigns, A tyrant's stern control maintains; Nor sighs, nor tears, nor prayers can move The least relenting look of love. A kind word, kindly spoken, might Have turn'd my darkness into light; But, since my suit is urged in vain, I fly to feed my griefs with Payen.'[5] [5] 'L'objet qui règne dans mon coeur Est toujours insensible à mon amour fidèle, Mes soins, mes soupirs, ma langueur, Ne sauraient attendrir cette beauté cruelle. O ciel! est-il un sort plus affreux que le mien? Ah! puisque je ne puis lui plaire, Je renonce au jour qui m'éclaire; Venez, mes chers amis, m'enterrer chez Payen.'