“What do you wish?” he asked hoarsely.
“What is the matter? It seems to me that you are—very downcast and very sad—I suppose it is on account of—what we were saying—see, if it annoys you so greatly, I think I prefer that you should go. Yes, I am sure I do.”
“I am not annoyed. I am—as I always am. It is because you know me so little that you are surprised at my manner.”
And seeing that Lucía remained standing with a remorseful expression on her countenance, he motioned to the other chair. Lucía drew it forward and sat down in it, facing Artegui.
“Say something,” continued Artegui, “let us talk. We must amuse ourselves, we must chat—as we did this afternoon.”
“Ah, this afternoon you were in a good humor.”
“And you?”
“I was suffocated with the heat. Our house at Leon is very cool; I am much more susceptible to the heat than to the cold.”
“You found it pleasant, no doubt, to wash off the dust of the road. It is so refreshing to make one’s toilet after a journey.”
“Yes, but——” Lucía stopped. “I missed one thing—a very important thing,” she added.