Then turning to Augustias—­“What would they say of me in the club?  What would people say of me, if they met me in the street with a woman on my arm, or if they found me at home, just about to feed a child in swaddling clothes?  I—­to have children?  To worry about them?  To live in eternal fear that they might fall sick or die?  Augustias, believe me, as true as there is a God above us, I am absolutely unfit for it!  I should behave in such a way that after a short while you would call upon heaven either to be divorced or to become a widow.  Listen to my advice:  do not marry me, even if I ask you.”

“What a strange creature you are,” said the young woman, without allowing herself to be at all discomposed, and sitting very erect in her chair.  “All that you are only telling to yourself!  From what do you conclude that I wish to be married to you; that I would accept your offer, and that I should not prefer living by myself, even if I had to work day and night, as so many girls do who are orphans?”

“How do I come to that conclusion?” answered the captain with the greatest candor.  “Because it cannot be otherwise.  Because we love each other.  Because we are drawn to each other.  Because a man such as I, and a woman such as you, cannot live in any other way!  Do you suppose I do not understand that?  Don’t you suppose I have reflected on it before now?  Do you think I am indifferent in your good name and reputation?  I have spoken plainly in order to speak, in order to fly from my own conviction, in order to examine whether I can escape from this terrible dilemma which is robbing me of my sleep, and whether I can possibly find an expedient so that I need not marry you—­to do which I shall finally be compelled, if you stand by your resolve to make your way alone!”

“Alone!  Alone!” repeated Augustias, roguishly.  “And why not with a worthier companion?  Who tells you that I shall not some day meet a man whom I like, and who is not afraid to marry me?”

“Augustias! let us skip that!” growled the captain, his face turning scarlet.

“And why should we not talk about it?”

“Let us pass over that, and let me say, at the same time, that I will murder the man who dares to ask for your hand.  But it is madness on my part to be angry without any reason.  I am not so dull as not to see how we two stand.  Shall I tell you?  We love each other.  Do not tell me I am mistaken!  That would be lying.  And here is the proof:  if you did not love me, I, too, should not love you!  Let us try to meet one another halfway.  I ask for a delay of ten years.  When I shall have completed my half century, and when, a feeble old man, I shall have become familiar with the idea of slavery, then we will marry without anyone knowing about it.  We will leave Madrid, and go to the country, where we shall have no spectators, where there will be nobody to make fun of me.  But until this happens, please take half of my income secretly, and without any human soul ever knowing anything about it.  You continue to live here, and I remain in my house.  We will see each other, but only in the presence of witnesses—­for instance, in society.  We will write to each other every day.  So as not to endanger your good name, I will never pass through this street, and on Memorial Day only we will go to the cemetery together with Rosa.”