“Yes,” she replied; “and as for the lace, I will shew you that it is not the money that deters me.”
So saying the mad girl took up a pair of scissors and cut the lace into fragments.
“What a pity!” said the man who had spoken to me at the bull fight. “People will say that you have gone off your head.”
“Be silent, you pimping rogue!” said she, enforcing her words with a sturdy box on the ear.
The fellow went off, calling her strumpet, which only made her scream with laughter; then, turning to the Spaniard, she told him to make out his account directly.
The man did not want telling twice, and avenged himself for the abuse he had received by the inordinate length of his bill.
She took up the account and placed her initials at the bottom without deigning to look at the items, and said,—
“Go to Don Diego Valencia; he will pay you immediately.”
As soon as we were alone the chocolate was served, and she sent a message to the fellow whose ears she had boxed to come to breakfast directly.
“You needn’t be surprised at my way of treating him,” she said. “He’s a rascal whom Ricla has placed in my house to spy out my actions, and I treat him as you have seen, so that he may have plenty of news to write to his master.”