"Oh, why not?" I said, "all things are possible. And has he been your young man long?" "Six years." "Oh, ho!" I thought. "Well, let us write your letter ..." And I tell you plainly that I would willingly have changed places with this Bolés if his fair correspondent had been not Teresa, but something less than she. "I thank you most heartily, sir, for your kind services," said Teresa to me, with a curtsey. "Perhaps _I_ can show _you_ some service, eh?" "No, I most humbly thank you all the same." "Perhaps, sir, your shirts or your trousers may want a little mending?" I felt that this mastodon in petticoats had made me grow quite red with shame, and I told her pretty sharply that I had no need whatever of her services. She departed. A week or two passed away. It was evening. I was sitting at my window whistling and thinking of some expedient for enabling me to get away from myself. I was bored, the weather was dirty. I didn't want to go out, and out of sheer ennui I began a course of self-analysis and reflection. This also was dull enough work, but I didn't care about doing anything else. Then the door opened. Heaven be praised, someone came in. "Oh, Mr. Student, you have no pressing business, I hope?" It was Teresa. Humph! "No. What is it?" "I was going to ask you, sir, to write me another letter." "Very well! To Bolés, eh?" "No, this time it is from him." "Wha-at?" "Stupid that I am! It is not for me, Mr. Student, I beg your pardon. It is for a friend of mine, that is to say, not a friend but an acquaintance--a man acquaintance. He has a sweetheart just like me here, Teresa. That's how it is. Will you, sir, write a letter to this Teresa?" I looked at her--her face was troubled, her fingers were trembling. I was a bit fogged at first--and then I guessed how it was. "Look here, my lady," I said, "there are no Boleses or Teresas at all, and you've been telling me a pack of lies. Don't you come sneaking about me any longer. I have no wish whatever to cultivate your acquaintance. Do you understand?" And suddenly she grew strangely terrified and distraught; she began to shift from foot to foot without moving from the place, and spluttered comically, as if she wanted to say something and couldn't. I waited to see what would come of all this, and I saw and felt that, apparently, I had made a great mistake in suspecting her of wishing to draw me from the path of righteousness. It was evidently something very different. "Mr Student!" she began, and suddenly, waving her hand, she turned abruptly towards the door and went out. I remained with a very unpleasant feeling in my mind. I listened. Her door was flung violently to--plainly the poor wench was very angry.... I thought it over, and resolved to go to her, and, inviting her to come in here, write everything she wanted. I entered her apartment. I looked round. She was sitting at the table, leaning on her elbows, with her head in her hands. "Listen to me," I said.