The painter did not wince; he suspected a snare.
"Pardon," he said, in a tone of kindliness, impossible to describe. "Before going any further, let us understand each other thoroughly, caballero. You say, do you not, that I am devoted to these unfortunate ladies?"
"Is it not true?" added the Pincheyra.
"To a certain extent it is, señor. These ladies required aid; I was near them, and they claimed mine. To refuse them would neither have been gallant nor in good taste. I, therefore, acceded to their wishes; but you know as well as anyone, Don Pablo, that yesterday, having learnt that they had no further need of me, I took leave of them."
"Hum I that is awkward," murmured Zeno Cabral. "Had you, then, serious reasons for acting thus?"
"Not precisely, señor; I have always acted in good faith with these ladies."
There was a long silence between the three speakers. The tone of the young painter was so artless and decidedly frank, that Don Zeno, notwithstanding all his skill, could not ascertain whether he gave expression to his real thoughts, or was deceiving him.
"I am disheartened by what you tell me, as I intended to ask you to do me a service."
"With regard to these ladies?" said the young man, with astonishment.
"A service for which, by the by, I should be extremely grateful."