The
wild creature, wrestling with her destiny, often gave forth tragic
gleams of light.
One day his relation, the Government Secretary, met him. They
usually avoided each other, but to-day he stopped.
"Ah, Rafael," said the dapper little man nervously, "I was coming
to see you."
"My dear fellow, what is it?"
"Ah, I see that you guess; it is a letter from your mother."
"From my mother?"
During all the time since her telegram they had not exchanged a
word.
"A very long letter, but she makes a condition."
"Hum, hum! a condition?"
"Yes, but do not be angry; it is not a hard one: it is only that
you are to go away from the town, wherever you like, so long as
you can be quiet, and then you are to read it."
"You know the contents?"
"I know the contents, I will go bail for it."
What he meant, or why he was so perturbed by it, Rafael did not
understand, but it infected him; if he had had the money, and if
on that day he had been disengaged, he would have gone at once.
But he had not the money, not more than he wanted for the fete
that evening. He had the tickets for it in his pocket at that
moment.
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