Dolores La Escandalosa had left him for another.
"Where can we go to sleep?" Manuel asked him.
"Let's try the caves of La Montana," answered El Bizco.
"But can we get in there?"
"Yes, if there aren't too many."
"Come on, then."
The two crossed through the Puerta de Moros and Mancebos Street to the
Viaduct; they traversed the Plaza de Oriente, following along Bailen
and Ferraz Streets, and, as they reached the Montana del Principe Pio,
ascended a narrow path bordered by recently planted pines.
El Bizco and Manuel went along in the dark from one side to the other,
exploring the hollows of the mountain, until a ray of light issuing
from a crevice in the earth betrayed one of the caves.
They approached the hole; from within came the interrupted hum of
hoarse voices.
By the flickering light of a candle which was held in position on the
ground by two rocks, more than a dozen outcasts, some seated and some
on their knees, formed a knot of card-players. In the corners might be
discerned the hazy outlines of men stretched out on the sand.
A fetid vapour was exhaled by the cave.
The flame flickered, illuminating now a corner of the den, now the
pale face of one of the players, and as the light blinked, the shadows
of the men grew long or short on the sandy walls. From time to time
was heard a curse or a blasphemy.
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