She went on to tell me that they were both born in Valencia, where they had always lived; through the winter in the city, Calle del Mar; in the summer time at their villa in Cabañal.
I knew several of the Castell and Martí steamers. I spoke of my satisfaction in placing myself at the service of the wife of one of their owners.
We talked a little longer. I was downcast and felt a desire to go. I managed to take my leave, but not without another dialogue with Doña Amparo with closed doors and an interpreter. On reaching the street my unfounded and even irrational depression was soon dissipated, as I talked with acquaintances and went about my affairs. But all through the day the figure of Doña Cristina was constantly present to my imagination. I adore women who are slender and white, with great black eyes. My friends used to tell me once that in order to suit my taste a woman must be in the last stage of phthisis. They were not far from right. My only love had been a consumptive, and she died when all the preparations were made for our marriage.
The next day I held it to be in the line of my duty to go to the hotel to inquire about the ladies. Doña Cristina asked me in and received me with even greater cordiality, putting her finger to her lips and asking me to speak in whispers like herself, for her mother was sleeping. We seated ourselves on the sofa and chatted in low but lively tones. Doña Amparo was well, and required nothing but attention.
"Moreover (I will tell you in confidence), until they have finished her wig she will not show herself outside her room."
"Ah, the wig! Yes, I remember now."
"Yes, you remember that you tore it off, wicked one!" she replied, laughing.
"Señora, it was impossible to foresee! It is fortunate that I did not tear her head from her body."
We both laughed heartily, forcing ourselves at the same time to laugh noiselessly. A moment later she said, in a way so natural that it pleased me immensely:
"I am hungry, captain, and am going to have some breakfast. Will you not join me?"