The music-box
cut short the duet from _La Mascotte_ and launched spiritedly
into the strains of Garibaldi's hymn. Suddenly the music stopped and a
hoarse voice shouted:
"Paco! Paco!"
The landlady got up and asked who was making all that racket; one of
the men who had just entered the house explained in a whisky-soaked
voice that they were students who boarded on the third floor, and had
just come from the ball in search of Paco, one of the salesmen. The
landlady told them that some one had died in the house and one of the
drunkards, who was a student of medicine, said he would like to view
the corpse. He was persuaded to change his mind and everybody went
back to his place. The next day Manuel's sisters were notified and
Petra was buried....
On the day after the interment Manuel left the boarding-house and said
farewell to Dona Casiana.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I don't know. I'll see."
"I can't keep you here, but I don't want you to starve. Come here from
time to time."
After walking about town all the morning, Manuel found himself at noon
on the Ronda de Toledo, leaning against the wall of Las Americas, at a
loss to know what to do with himself. To one side, likewise seated
upon the turf, was a loathsome, terribly ugly, flat-nosed gamin, with
a clouded eye, bare feet, and a tattered jacket through whose rents
could be glimpsed his dark skin, which had been tanned by the sun and
wind.
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