"I have not seen him for a long time. Don't the cards tell you, that he is dead?"
"Dead, dead:—of course he's dead. You had a mother too?"
"Yes, yes," he answered impatiently; for he was unwilling to talk with this woman about his mother.
She shrank back a little, and said sadly: "That sounds very harsh. Do you no longer like to think of your mother?"
"What is that to you?"
"I must know."
"No, what concerns my mother is….I will—is too good for juggling."
"Oh," she said, looking at him with a glance from which he shrank. Then she silently laid down the last cards, and asked: "Do you want to hear anything about a sweetheart?"
"I have none. But how you look at me! Have you grown tired of Zorrillo?
I am ill-suited for a gallant."
She shuddered slightly. Her bright face had again grown old, so old and weary that he pitied her. But she soon regained her composure, and continued: