"Boy, bring me a glass of _limon_.... Bring me two, do you hear?"
The banker was choking. He was a short, stout man, with extremely red
cheeks. He unbuttoned his shirt collar and went on shuffling the cards,
all the time snorting furiously, as though he were threatened by some
apoplectic attack.
"Game."
The players made their play, laying their stakes beside the cards. A
gloved hand placed a package of bills on one of them.
"How much of that do you bet, Saavedra?" asked the fat gambler, lifting
his eyes which were full of terror and seemed to ask for mercy.
"All," replied the Andalusian _caballero_ dryly.
"How much is there?"
"I don't know."
His tone was depreciative enough. However, the banker seemed not to mind
it: he took the package and began to count it under the watchful eyes of
the group of players who were gathered around the table, some seated,
some standing.
"There are forty-one thousand reals."
"There is not enough in the bank," said one player, stretching out his
hand for his stake.
"My credit is good for it," replied the banker, growing redder and
redder; it seemed as though he were going to burst. While the banker was
distributing the cards, absolute silence reigned. Don Alfonso's was a
seven.
"That is the end of it," said the banker, with ill-concealed dismay,
throwing the pack down on the table.
Immediately he began to pay the smaller stakes, leaving Saavedra's till
the last. When he came to him there were left only twenty-nine thousand
reals.
"I shall owe you twelve thousand," said he, handing over all that he
had.
Don Alfonso took it and thrust it into his pocket angrily. The game was
over. The banker, mopping the sweat from his forehead with his
handkerchief, went over to the Andalusian, who had taken his seat on a
sofa, and was calmly reading a newspaper.
"You have fifteen thousand duros in your pocket, my boy."
"I don't know," replied Don Alfonso, without looking up.
"But I know: Villar and Gonzalez lost nine thousand, and we more than
twelve thousand. All the rest put together did not take six thousand."
"Pish! it is quite possible," replied the _caballero_.
"Any one to see your face would say that what you carried in your pocket
was fifteen thousand stones. See here, lend me thirty thousand reals,
and that will put you in good humor."
Don Alfonso, without saying a word, took out his pocket-book, and gave
him a handful of bills.
"Saavedra, you are on the downward track. The other evening I saw you in
a box at the theatre making love to a mighty pretty girl. Be careful! on
the day least expected you will be getting married."
Don Alfonso took out his watch, and, after looking at it, smiled coldly,
saying:--
"At this very moment I am going to run away with that same little girl.
I am going abroad with her."
"I would not sell myself cheap," replied the other, without once
thinking that it might be true. "But you would soon get tired of it. You
and I are just alike; we are too old for such escapades."
"Good by, Gubells."
"Good by, my boy. Don't fail to be on hand to-night, for there is going
to be a game of golfe."
"Haven't I told you that I am going to run away with that little girl?"
rejoined the _caballero_, at the door, with the same cold smile on his
lips.
"A nice little piece!... Come back as soon as you can ... won't you? and
don't fail to bring the marquis if you meet him."
Saavedra slowly descended the carpeted staircase of the Circulo. As he
went into the street it was already growing dark. His _berlina_ was
waiting for him at the door.
"See here, Julian! take me now to the Calle de Carretas, stop there, and
wait near the mail-box. A senora will come, she will open the door, and
get in with me. As soon as this occurs, without a moment's delay drive
like an arrow for Jetafe. You are well acquainted with the road, aren't
you? Good! then it will be necessary, even though you wind the horses,
to get us there in a jiffy. I want to catch the train that leaves there
at half-past eight. Don't you be troubled at the adventure; it is a
ballet girl from the Real who wants to go with me to Seville, and I
cannot break my word. When we reach Jetafe I will give you further
instructions about what you are to do."
The carriage reached the Calle de Carretas, and drew up where its owner
had commanded. Don Alfonso leaned back in one corner so as to avoid the
glances of the passers-by, and waited.
Julia had been spending the afternoon at her sister-in-law's, for that
day she happened not to have a piano lesson; she was all the time in a
state of nervous excitement, which Maximina was not slow to notice.
"What is the matter? Do you feel ill?" she asked.
"No. What makes you ask? What do you see in me that is strange?" she
demanded, full of alarm.
"Nothing, nothing! don't be disturbed. You are a trifle paler than
usual, and there are circles under your eyes, nothing more."
"Oh, I think that I am a little nervous to-day."
Maximina smiled good-naturedly, supposing that she might have had some
falling out with her lover, and so she ordered some _tila_ to be made
for her.
In spite of the deep antipathy which she felt for Don Alfonso and the
strong reasons that she had for considering him a miscreant, she saw
that Julita was so desperately in love with him that she could not bring
herself to say a word against him.
As the afternoon wore on, her restlessness increased. The youngest
offshoot of the race of the Riveras was many times on the point of
suffering in some slight degree in consequence of his noble aunt's
nervous condition. She hugged him to her heart tighter than was
necessary; she tossed him up into the air and caught him again; she gave
him hundreds of kisses on the same spot in his face until it burned
brighter than a coal, and even--horrible thing--bit his nose. There is
no need of saying that the illustrious baby, swelling with indignation,
protested against such treatment.
The young girl likewise showed herself more tenderly affectionate toward
Maximina than usual.
"Maximina, how good you are! how good you are!"
And she almost squeezed her to death in her arms.
"I wish I were. I should like to be good," replied the young wife,
blushing.
"How much I would give to be like you, Maximina!"
"If you weren't better, you would be a pretty poor specimen."
"Oh! I am bad, Maximina, very bad!... But you will forgive all my
failings, won't you?"