ment, and rummaging through files of papers, the utility of which, to say the least, is by no means apparent, and which often drive me to wonder whether our government offices are not in fact charitable institutions, maintained in the interest of this debilitated middle class, which, while it retains its self-respect, can take refuge in no other asylum.
Hilario. Yes, Doña Carmen, the position my friend offers is excellent for a man who is willing to work. That Julio knows. He will have to give up being the young intellectual, who has no other use for his intellectuality than to criticise others who work. He will require intelligence, but only enough to serve a firm and resolute will. Will is necessary above everything else, will that is constructive, will that is able to convert dreams into realities. It will be very different there from what it is here, where we spend the better part of our lives speaking evil of those who construct, because they have not constructed the precise fabric of our dreams, which is so beautiful, so extremely beautiful, that it goes without saying it will never be built. So, because no reality can equal our dreams, we spend our lives outside in the foul weather, while others who do not think so much, nor criticise so much, build themselves spacious houses and even splendid palaces, which doubtless are in very bad taste, but which are solid, nevertheless, and quite comfortable.
Julio. Yes, I shall build my house like them, whatever it may be; and upon new ground, not on top of ruins.
Carmen. But you cannot do it alone. Has Emilia seen this letter? Have you discussed it with her and with her mother, as you are doing with me? Have you told them that your decision is final, irrevocable?
Julio. Emilia will not hesitate if her love is true.
Carmen. You appear to emphasize the if.
Julio. No.
