"Well," she resumed, "I have counted the guests and found out"
"What?" they all asked,
"That there are thirteen people at the table."
Her words were received with shouts of laughter, while all expressed their different opinions on the subject. Soon after Ernestina made a motion, and all left the table. Simon had to make a great effort to leave his seat; his body felt heavy, the lights danced before his eyes, while a cold chill penetrated his veins. No. 13 filled his mind with gloomy forebodings.
Time went on, as it always does, with the careless indifference of one who has seen everything and is never astonished at any occurrence whatsoever. The married couple's life was very monotonous. Ernestina devoted the most of her time to her toilet, to the theaters, or society. She was always pale, languid and romantic, for romanticism, which was very fashionable in those days,‘seemingly the outward garb of her soul, was indispensable to her.
Simon had disappointed Señor Albamonte's expectations. Instead of dispelling Ernestina's romantic notions, he seemed to share them. He seldom spoke, loved to be alone, and lived within himself, while his friends remarked:
"Oh yes, now that he is rich he looks over our heads. Just set a beggar on horseback, and you know the result."
It was a very cold winter, and pneumonia was very fatal. Ernestina caught that dreadful disease as she was coming out of the thea-
