A few old strumpets remained at the street-corners, wrapped in their
cloaks, smoking....
It was long before the heavens grew bright; it was still night when
the coffee stands were opened, and the coachmen and ragamuffins went
up for their cup or glass. The gas lamps were extinguished.
The light from the watchmen's lanterns danced across the grey
pavement, which already was dimly lighted by the pale glow of dawn,
and the black silhouettes of the ragdealers stood out against the
heaps of ordure as they bent over to take the rubbish. Now and then
some pale benighted fellow with his coat collar raised, would glide by
as sinister as an owl before the growing light and soon some workmen
passed.... Industrious, honest; Madrid was preparing for its hard
daily task.
This transition from the feverish turmoil of night to the calm, serene
activity of morning plunged Manuel into profound thought.
He understood that the existence of the night-owls and that of the
working folk were parallel lives that never for an instant met. For
the ones, pleasure, vice, the night; for the others, labour, fatigue,
the sun. And it seemed to him, too, that he should belong to the
second class, to the folk who toil in the sun, not to those who dally
in the shadows.
END OF "TO BUSCA,"
(THE QUEST)
The second volume of the trilogy is called "Mala Hierba" (Weeds); the
third, "Aurora Roja" (Red Dawn).
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