"Do you like it?... Then I am going to give you a cake of it."
"My friend, I beg of you!"
Utrilla, without heeding his protests, got the soap out of the desk, wrapped it up in a piece of paper, and almost by main force thrust it into his pocket. From that time forth Miguel took care not to commend anything which he happened to touch.
As he was going, the ex-cadet shook his hand ardently, and said in a voice full of emotion:—
"Don't fail to speak to her. If you knew how sad and desperate I am."
The truth of the matter was that he had good reason to be, as will appear in the next chapter.
VI.
"If your son were to put up at a hotel while I have a house in Madrid, I should be seriously vexed with him, and with you too," la brigadiera Angela had written to her cousin María Antonia.
And her cousin replied:—
"I have sent a copy of your letter to Alfonso, and assured him that he would enjoy much staying with you. Although he always rebels against my advice, I hope that this time he will gratify me. But I am afraid, my dear, that his visit may cause you a good deal of trouble, for I don't know what kind of habits he has contracted in Paris; but you have asked for it, and you can try it."