who live in obedience to the church) were dispersing in every direction. He looked about him like a dog nosing in the air, but he had lost his black eyes. He ran up the street, and then back, but the bewitching being had completely disappeared, making it impossible for him to find out who she was or where he could see her. When at last he rested he was out of breath. He clenched his fist with all the force of despair, for his desires were kindling more and more as the obstacles which he encountered increased. Thus the hidalgo stood for more than half an hour, leaning against a wall, with drooping head, eyes closed, arms folded, and mind engaged in contemplating the lady of the black eyes. As he could do nothing more, he had to resign himself to fate, trusting that an accident might bring about better luck. He went to church the next day, but without meeting her. Thus he passed four days, always preoccupied, sleeping very little, and eating still less, when one morning, returning from mass, and passing down Las Infantas street, he heard a woman’s voice, and raising his eyes, could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and joy, for there on the balcony was the bewitching brunette, leaning out to call after a man who was just leaving the house. The man, who was small, ugly and stupid looking, returned and entered. Doña Sol, as if by accident, looked at the hidalgo, left the balcony, turned round to close the blind, gave him another glance, and disappeared. “Ah,” sighed Señor Alonso, as though he wished to send his soul after the young lady, “how happy I am!” There was no longer any necessity to search for her; all he had to do was to approach her. Judging correctly that the little man was a servant, he decided to wait for his return, imagining that as his purse was well stocked it was all that was necessary. In less than five minutes the servant came back and started on his errand. Señor Alonso followed him, stopped him in La Horteleza street, and, showing him a gold piece, said, “Don’t be offended at my offering you a little present. Take this.” “What do you wish?” asked the servant, smiling, and examining the hidalgo from head to foot. “Almost nothing, but it is a great deal to me. I worship your lady—” “Ah, already?” “I am a hidalgo, have enough to live on, and before two months are over I shall be quite rich, and you, too, if you serve me.” “I understand.” “My name is Alonso Pacheco.—But here, take this.” “No.” “You refuse to serve me? Perhaps your lady is no longer mistress of her heart?” “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?”