This personage was Momo, whose cheeks were bandaged with an old handkerchief, and frightfully swollen. He had come to Ramon, who to his quality of barber joined that of dentist, to have a tooth extracted.
“What horrible vision!” cried Maria. “You would frighten fear itself. Have you come to exhibit yourself for money?”
“I came to have a tooth taken out, and not to be insulted. But Gaviota you have been, Gaviota you are, and Gaviota you will be.”
“If you have come here to have extracted that which is really bad, Ramon must commence with your heart.”
“See then, who speaks of heart! A daughter who left her father to die in the arms of strangers, without sending even the slightest assistance!”
“And whose fault?” replied Maria. “Yours, ugly peasant, who left Madrid without delivering your message, and spread everywhere the report of my death, because you mistook a theatrical representation for a reality. In consequence of which, on my arrival here all Villamar took me for a spectre from the other world.”
“Theatrical representation! yes, you have always so said. But if Telo had not missed you, and if your husband had not cured you, you would long ago have been food for worms, for the repose of honest people who know you.”
“You do not enjoy this repose; and you will not enjoy it for a long time to come. I will live a hundred years to torment you.”
Momo, as his only reply, shrugged his shoulders with contempt, and in a sententious voice pronounced—
“Gaviota you have been, Gaviota you are, and Gaviota you will be.”