Of course I did all I could to forget Doña Cristina and her so holy name, and seemed to succeed throughout the day. But at night her image would not leave my couch for a moment; it twitched my feet, it pulled my hair, and later, to make it up to me for these shocking tribulations, it gently inclined itself towards me and lightly touched my cheek with its lips.
On awaking, a luminous idea attacked me. Martí was to arrive that day, and it was my unavoidable duty to go to meet him at the station: first, for courtesy's sake; second, to prevent his asking for me, and thereby causing his wife any agitation; third, because my absence would surprise Doña Amparo; fourth, because it was necessary not to reveal what had occurred; fifth—I do not know what the fifth reason was, but I have an idea that there was a fifth reason and that it had something to do with the mad desire that I felt to see Doña Cristina again.
The mail train arrived in the afternoon. I therefore had sufficient time to think over the bother of such a step and to change my purpose. But after considering it in all its aspects and then considering it again and making infinite efforts for heaven to touch my heart, I still did not repent, and my feet conducted me to the station almost in spite of myself.
On reaching the platform I saw my ladies talking with an employee. Availing myself of the prodigious diplomatic aptitude with which heaven had been so good as to favor me, I passed along behind them at a slow pace and profoundly absorbed in the contemplation of a pile of beets.
"Ribot! Ribot!"
I stopped, filled with astonishment. I turned my head to the southeast, then to the north, next to the northeast, and so on successively towards all the points of the compass until, after many unfruitful efforts, I succeeded in locating the direction from which the voice proceeded.
"Oh, señoras!"
I approached them, overflowing with astonishment, and seized the hand of Doña Amparo. I started to do likewise with Cristina and—did I not say before that this lady was distinguished by a white skin? The statement must be corrected. At that moment she might have been born in Senegal.
I asked for her health without venturing to extend my hand, and she responded, looking in another direction.
"How is this, Captain Ribot?" asked Doña Amparo. "All day yesterday you did not come, or to-day either."