I found myself too much moved to speak.
"How do you find me? In a very bad way, don't you?" he asked at last, after a long silence.
"I hope I shall see you better soon," I answered, making an effort to control myself and hide the emotion that mastered me.
At the same time I took the candle, and bringing it nearer his face, pretended to examine it with close attention.
"Do you know what ails you?" I asked. "It's morriña!"
"What is that?" he asked, opening his eyes wide.
"It is an illness that attacks the Galicians when they lose an amount exceeding fifty centimos."
I saw a smile steal over his lips and, glancing gayly at his wife, he exclaimed:
"The same as ever! He doesn't seem to me a bit changed—no!"
I understood that the kindest thing I could do at that moment was to go on joking. I plucked up my courage and unlocked my stock of buffooneries, although they can't be called very witty. Soon I had the pleasure of hearing him laugh heartily. His face brightened, his eyes shone; in a few minutes we were chatting together with the same gayety as if he were perfectly well and had not lost a centimo of his capital.