"_Diablo! Diablo!_ How you made it bleed!"
"I want to see you pack out of here, you rascal![29] you rrrascal! you
rrrrrrrascal!" And each time that she repeated the word, she gave a more
vigorous roll to the _r_, as though the preservation of her honor,
endangered by the impudent lieutenant, depended on the proper
pronunciation of this precious palatal.
"But first let me have a little water to wash my face.... I can't go out
this way...."
"You'd better have some green lemon juice.... Clear out of here, you
indecent wretch!"
The young woman stretched her right arm toward the door with so much
dignity that it could not have been improved upon. Enrique, busy in
cleaning off the blood and in looking with sorrow on the spots staining
his handkerchief, could not appreciate the value of that haughty
attitude which was worthy of Juno, Pallas, Cybele, or any other goddess
of antiquity.
The mythological right hand, however, under the influence of
compassion, was gradually beginning to bend, and after a few moments it
was the very one that brought from the back room a jug full of water,
and set it down on the marble table beside the fatal tumbler of milk
which the "rascal" had but just drained.
Still it must not be imagined that this act in the least infringed on
the dignity with which the handsome _chula_ had clothed herself: on the
contrary, it made it more lustrous and illustrious. And while the
lieutenant was washing his nose, carefully snuffling up the water, she,
casting glances of Olympic scorn at his occiput and muttering threats,
went and sat down once more at the door with her book in her hands.
The hemorrhage having been checked, after drying his face with his
handkerchief the lieutenant left the shop; but as he passed by Manolita
he had the impudence to say:--
"Good by, my beauty; I shall not lay it up against you."
It would be impossible for any one to conceive that Manolita lifted so
much as her eyes, much more that she replied to him.
Enrique went to the Imperial with his nose rather red, possibly a little
inflamed, but as happy as though nothing of the sort had occurred. The
thought of the _chula_ and the buffet that she had given him was driven
out of his head by the congratulations of the bull-fighters and a
dispute that lasted all the afternoon as to whether it is permissible or
not for the _espada_ to have a boy at the entrance to attract the
attention of the bull when he charges at close quarters.
On the next day, however, when he left the house after breakfast, he
remembered his adventure; instead of going up to town by the Prado, so
as to take Prince Street, as his custom was, he entered the Calle del
Bano the same as on the day before. He had taken but a step or two
before he could discern at a distance Manolita's checked chintz and blue
kerchief.
The lieutenant smiled, calling to mind only the pleasant part of
yesterday's episode; it was one of his peculiarities to see all the
things of this world in the most hopeful aspect.
"Ah, there is my little _chula!_ _caramba!_ if she isn't witty and
saucy!"
And with a honied smile on his lips, he walked leisurely to the "dairy,"
puffing out vast volumes of smoke, and carrying himself like a man whose
happiness cannot be disturbed by a buffet more or less.
When he came near the young woman, he stopped just as on the day before.
The _chula_ looked up, and scanning him with angry eyes, said:--
"Have you come back for another?"
"If you are anxious to give me one...."
Enrique's dog-like face expressed such pure satisfaction, and had grown
so fearfully ugly in expressing it, that the _chula_ could not prevent a
smile breaking out on her face.