Seated in the deep recess of one of the windows which looked into the street, I watched all Perico's motions with some uneasiness. It appeared to me that the protection he had so suddenly bestowed was only a cloak to entrap me. My features must have betrayed my uneasiness, for the lépero approached and said, by way of consolation,
"Look you, señor, killing a man is like every thing else; the first step is the only painful one. Besides, your sereno may perhaps be like my Englishman, who is to-day as well as ever. These heretics have as many lives as a cat. Ah! señor," said Perico, with a sigh, "I have always regretted that I was not a heretic."
"To have as many lives as a cat?"
"No, to be paid for my conversion! Unfortunately, my reputation as a Christian is too well established."
"But the cavalier you were to kill," I asked of Perico, naturally brought back to the recollection of the melancholy young man whom I had seen kneeling before the Morgue, "do you think that he is still alive?"
Perico shook his head. "To-morrow, perhaps, his mad passion may have cost him his life, and his mistress will not survive him. I have no desire to make two victims at once, and I threw up the business."
"These sentiments do you honor, Perico."
Perico wished to profit by the favorable impression his answer had produced upon me.
"Doubtless—you can not risk your soul so for a few piastres. But, speaking of piastres, señor," he continued, holding out his hand, "I feel in the vein, and perhaps there are still a few pieces left in your purse. If I break the bank at monte, you shall go halves with my winnings."
I thought it prudent to yield to this new demand of the Zaragate. The play, besides, would free me from his company, which was becoming irksome. I slipped, then, some piastres into Perico's hand. Almost at the same moment twelve o'clock struck. One of the company rose, and cried in a solemn tone, "It is the hour of the souls in Purgatory; let us pray!"