"Do you know, Gonzalo," he said, stopping suddenly, "that I might have killed myself just now?"
"How?"
He then gave a full account of the incident of the mole, and when the story was ended, he again relapsed into a state of profound melancholy.
"I suppose the family is in bed," said Gonzalo, after he had sufficiently sympathized (at least in his own opinion) with the late peril of the merchant.
"No, they are at the theatre—one never knows what may happen, eh?"
"So you've got a theatrical company here, eh?"
"Yes, for some days past. Do you know I thought I should have been killed, Gonzalo?"
"Tush! You might, perhaps, have broken a leg, or at the worst, a rib or two."
"Well, that would have been bad enough!" exclaimed the Señor de Belinchon, with a sigh.
By this time they had proceeded some distance into the town, and arriving at a certain street, Don Rosendo took leave of the uncle and nephew. He held out his hand in a sad way, saying: