than other women. But the moment she laid eyes on him she slowly drew back; it had not occurred to her that he too had grown up.
She did not know this pale, thin face; it was no longer sickly and refined, it was dull and heavy. But as he gazed at her his eyes became filled with the calm light of bygone dreams; she came forward again, and each step nearer seemed to take a year from him; when she stood beside him, where he had jumped up, he laughed like a child, talked like a child; that old face was like a mask concealing a hidden child: he had become older, it was true, but he had not grown.
Still, it was just this child she was seeking, and now that she had found him again she knew not what next she should do; she laughed and blushed. Involuntarily he felt something like power rising within him; it was for the first time in his life. At the same moment he grew handsome—it was, perhaps, but for an instant, but in that instant she was won.
Hers was one of those natures that can only love the weak on whom tenderness has been lavished by them. She had meant to pass two days in town; she remained two months. During these two months Pedro grew more than during all the rest of his youth; he was so far
