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It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old manwho sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against theelectric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at nightthe dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late becausehe was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt thedifference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old manwas a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew thatif he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they keptwatch on him.

"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said.

"Why?"

"He was in despair."

"What about?"

"Nothing."

"How do you know it was nothing?"

"He has plenty of money."

They sat together at a table that was close against the wall nearthe door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tableswere all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of theleaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and asoldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brassnumber on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurriedbeside him.

"The guard will pick him up," one waiter said.

"What does it matter if he gets what he's after?"

"He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. Theywent by five minutes ago."

The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with hisglass. The younger waiter went over to him.

"What do you want?"

The old man looked at him. "Another brandy," he said.

"You'll be drunk," the waiter said. The old man looked at him. Thewaiter went away.

"He'll stay all night," he said to his colleague. "I'm sleepy now.I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killedhimself last week."

The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from thecounter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. Heput down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

"You should have killed yourself last week," he said to the deafman. The old man motioned with his finger. "A little more," hesaid. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandyslopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile."Thank you," the old man said. The waiter took the bottle backinside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

"He's drunk now," he said.

"He's drunk every night."

"What did he want to kill himself for?"

"How should I know."

"How did he do it?"

"He hung himself with a rope."

"Who cut him down?"

"His niece."

"Why did they do it?"

"Fear for his soul."

"How much money has he got?" "He's got plenty."

"He must be eighty years old."

"Anyway I should say he was eighty."

"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock.What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"

"He stays up because he likes it."

"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."

"He had a wife once too."

"A wife would be no good to him now."

"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife."

"His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down."

"I know." "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nastything."

"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling.Even now, drunk. Look at him."

"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has noregard for those who must work."

The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over atthe waiters.

"Another brandy," he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter whowas in a hurry came over.

"Finished," he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupidpeople employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. "Nomore tonight. Close now."

"Another," said the old man.

"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a toweland shook his head.

The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leathercoin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half apeseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very oldman walking unsteadily but with dignity.

"Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the unhurried waiterasked. They were putting up the shutters. "It is not half-pasttwo."

"I want to go home to bed."

"What is an hour?"

"More to me than to him."

"An hour is the same."

"You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drinkat home."

"It's not the same."

"No, it is not," agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish tobe unjust. He was only in a hurry.

"And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?"

"Are you trying to insult me?"

"No, hombre, only to make a joke."

"No," the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling downthe metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence."

"You have youth, confidence, and a job," the older waiter said."You have everything."

"And what do you lack?"

"Everything but work."

"You have everything I have."

"No. I have never had confidence and I am not young."

"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up."

"I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe," the older waitersaid.

"With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those whoneed a light for the night."

"I want to go home and into bed."

"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was nowdressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth andconfidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night Iam reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needsthe cafe."

"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."

"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It iswell lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there areshadows of the leaves."

"Good night," said the younger waiter.

"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light hecontinued the conversation with himself, It was the light ofcourse but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor canyou stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear ordread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and lightwas all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived init and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y naday pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thykingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give usthis nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadasand nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee. He smiled andstood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

"What's yours?" asked the barman.

"Nada."

"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away.

"A little cup," said the waiter.

The barman poured it for him.

"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,"the waiter said.

The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late atnight for conversation.

"You want another copita?" the barman asked.

"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked barsand bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. Hewould lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go tosleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.