Castro turned round and contemplated his visitor with a look of surprise and irritation. Then, addressing himself to his glass again, he said:
"My dear Manolo, you are the greatest fool out. I am sure that when your aunt dies you will let that hussy spend the money for you as she has spent your own fortune."
The Marquis was in a fury.
"Do you know where the real wrong is?" he said. "It lies with my family, who, without rhyme or reason, interfere to prevent my marrying her. As my wife—as the mother of my motherless children—they would have been happy, and so should I!"
Castro stared at him in blank amazement. Tears stood on the Marquis's pale cheeks. Pepe made a grimace of contemptuous pity, and went on combing his moustache. After a few minutes' silence, he said:
"I am very sorry, old fellow. I have not got two thousand pesetas; but if I had I would not lend them to you for such a purpose, you may be very sure."
Davalos made no reply, but again paced the room.
"Whom can I ask?" he suddenly said, stopping short.
"Try Salabert," said Castro, with a short laugh.
Manolo clenched his fists and ground his teeth; his eyes glared ominously, and with a stride he went up to Pepe, who drew back a step, and prepared to defend himself.