Three young men were walking through one of the quietest streets ofAlcalà .Their rich appointments and courteous demeanour marked them as belongingto the noble youths who studied at the University of Alcalà , which was aslearned as Salamanca, and more fashionable, and gave a great air ofdignity to the little town on the Henares, which, now in the height ofits fame, consisted of streets of palaces, convents and colleges huddledtogether in massive splendour behind the old walls.It was midsummer, the air was tremulous with heat, and low, purple blackclouds rolled up from the plains towards Madrid; beneath them shot thelast rays of the fierce sun that ended in a glow of dun light on thewhite walls and coloured shutters of the silent houses of the silentstreet through which the three youths were walking in leisurely fashion,two of them with their arms interlinked and talking together, the third alittle in advance with his eyes on the ground and his arms folded on hischest.At the corner of the street stood a handsome palace surrounded by acourtyard in which grew laurels and ilex. Before this the three stoppedand gazed through the light yet strong iron railing that divided themfrom the mansion. A strange glowing light fell on the house that fullyfaced the west, and the domes and towers rose golden white against thedeepening purple of the thundrous sky.A little hot breeze, the forerunner of a storm, stirred the stiff boughsof the laurel and slightly shook the crimson drapery of an open upperwindow.It was towards this window that the three young men looked, for itbelonged to the apartment of the lady, Doña Aña Santofimia y Munatones,who was decided to be the most beautiful in Alcalà , and who was theobject of the interest of every youth in the University, though none ofthem had ever spoken to her or seen her nearer than across the space ofher father's courtyard.Before her window was a balcony on which stood three pots of pink roses,now in full bloom, and a bowl of growing basil that cast its featheryshadow over the white wall.More from habit than earnest feeling the three students lingered to catcha glimpse of the beauty.Presently she appeared, lifting the crimson curtain, and holding a pairof gilt scissors, on which the strong light gleamed.She wore a white skirt and a violet jacket fastened with green buttons;over her head was a muslin shawl with a silver fringe.She came out on to the balcony and cut the withered leaves from the rosebushes, scattering them on the hot air, where they fluttered a second andsank.Once she looked towards the gate where the three stood, but her face wasexpressionless. The sun was rapidly being absorbed by the oncoming storm;a low roll of thunder sounded and the dark clouds closed menacingly overthe city.