Part 14 (2/2)
”All right.”
After work Manuel went off to the boardingrhouse and took counsel with Roberto.
”Be at the San Millan cafe about nine in the evening,” said Roberto, ”I'll be there with a cousin of mine.”
”Are you going to take her there?” Manuel asked in astonishment.
”Yes. She's a queer one, a painter.”
”And is this painter good-looking?” asked Leandro.
”I can't say. I don't know her.”
”d.a.m.n my sweet---- ... ! I'd give anything to have this woman come along, man.”
”Me, too.”
They both went to the San Millan cafe, sat down and waited impatiently. At the hour indicated Roberto appeared in company of his cousin whom he called f.a.n.n.y. She was a woman between thirty and forty, very slender, with a sallow complexion,--a distinguished, masculine type; there was about her something of the graceless beauty of a racehorse; her nose was curved, her jaw big, her cheeks sunken and her eyes grey and cold. She wore a jacket of dark green taffeta, a black skirt and a small hat.
Leandro and Manuel greeted her with exceeding timidity and awkwardness; they shook hands with Roberto and conversed.
”My cousin,” said Roberto, ”would like to see something of slum life hereabouts.”
”Whenever you wish,” answered Leandro. ”But I warn you beforehand that there are some pretty tough specimens in this vicinity.”
”Oh, I'm prepared,” said the lady, with a slight foreign accent, showing a revolver of small calibre.
Roberto paid, despite Leandro's protests, and they left the cafe.
Coming out on the Plaza del Rastro, they walked down the Ribera de Curtidores as far as the Ronda de Toledo.
”If the lady wishes to see the house we live in, this is the one,”
said Leandro.
They went into the Corralon; a crowd of gamins and old women, amazed to see such a strange woman there at such an hour, surrounded them, showering Manuel and Leandro with questions. Leandro was eager for Milagros to learn that he had been there with a woman, so he accompanied f.a.n.n.y through the place, pointing out all the holes of the wretched dwelling.
”Poverty's the only thing you can see here,” said Leandro.
”Yes, yes indeed,” answered the woman.
”Now if you wish, we'll go to La Blasa's tavern.”
They left the Corralon for Embajadores lane and walked along the black fence of a laundry. It was a dark night and a drizzle had begun to fall. They stumbled along the surrounding path.
”Look-out,” said Leandro. ”There's a wire here.”
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