Lucía waited for the traveler to speak to her and her glance invited him to do so. But, as he did not seem disposed to gratify her wishes, she resolved, when some time had elapsed, to return to the charge, and cried:
“Well, and what am I going to do? You do not tell me how I am to get out of this difficulty.”
“To what place were you and your husband going, Señora?” he asked.
“We were going to France, to Vichy,—where the doctors had ordered him to take the waters.”
“To Vichy, direct? Did you not intend to stop at any place on the way?”
“Yes, at Bayonne; we were to rest there for a while.”
“You are certain of this?”
“Quite certain. Señor de Miranda explained it to me a hundred times.”
“In that case I will tell you what my opinion is. There is no doubt that your husband, detained by some accident, the nature of which we need not now stop to inquire into, remained in Venta de Baños last night. As a precautionary measure we will send him, if you wish, a telegram from Hendaya; but what I suppose is that he will take the first train which leaves for France to join you there. If we go back you run the risk of crossing him on the way, and thus losing time, besides giving yourself unnecessary trouble. If you get out at the first station we come to and wait for him there——”
“Yes, that would be the best thing to do.”