Therewith he jerked out his revolver and began pointing it about in various directions. His friends seized his arm, but in healthy fear of an accident, refrained from any effort to take the weapon from him. The scene was well on its way to a bad end, when a man named Amiral walked in upon the group.
This fellow, the perfect type of the impoverished rake, was always to be found hovering about some couple or other, never under any circumstances accompanied by a woman; he would have to pay for her drinks. He shared the champagne other people bought, rode in taxis other people paid for, and even gathered a few crumbs from other people's love affairs. Very tall, very thin, with extremely long arms, skeleton-like legs, a wan face, thick up-turned mustache, and bulging, glassy eyes, he was far from prepossessing in appearance. Though his perpetual penury made him something of a joke with women, Amiral was born for "gallant" adventure. In the eighteenth century he would have been a Marquis of Marivaux or a Count of Goldoni, prodigal of love and madrigals. In the less favorable present, his position in society, such as it was, derived from his trips to Europe.
In Argentina there is no more valid claim to consideration than foreign travels. The oftener one goes abroad, the greater one's "prestige," and Amiral "went across" every two years. He travelled parsimoniously, carried his own luggage, never used a cab, and was extremely sparing of tips. Generally he took lodgings in Paris, where he lived on borrowings from his fellow-countrymen. He knew nothing of the French capital save the life of the boulevards, of the Abbaye de Thélème, of the cabarets, and of the furnished apartments on the Chaussée d'Antin. However, in Argentina, this was readily marketable knowledge; a number of patotas tolerated Amiral for his amiable discourses on the gay life of Paris. His inevitable stock in trade was to expatiate on the theme that Buenos Aires had "no atmosphere"; and could the authority of such a widely travelled man be questioned in these matters? When, in the circles he frequented, the discussion turned to women, someone could always be heard to quote Amiral's oracular utterances: "Amiral says that in Paris..." and the point under discussion was settled.
"Why, my good friends, what's all this, anyway? Are you rehearsing for the movies?" said the new arrival, coming into the room with his accustomed laugh, his grotesque arms describing absurdly elongated arcs in the air.
"Why, you boys aren't serious, are you? Oh, say.... Really now, good fellows like you...."
The intervention had a quieting effect on Arnedo, who put his revolver away. One of the women tried to explain the scene to the newcomer, but Amiral held her off at the ends of unbelievably long arms.
"No, no! No post mortems, please! The act is all over, my young friends. Now for a merry little interlude. Come, bring on the suds! Say, girl, hasn't Pampa got a couple of bottles of champagne? I like mine dry."
The servant made haste to obey the order. Amiral punctiliously drank a toast to the mutual love of "the Arnedos," and once more laughter, shouting, dancing, clinking of spoons on glasses, general uproar, became the order of the evening. Arnedo, supported by the hilarious demands of the company, insisted that Nacha declare she had no intention of leaving him; and yielding to this unanimous pressure, she obeyed. Thus, under Amiral's protection, a reconciliation was accomplished. Arnedo took Nacha from her place and made her sit on his lap, while jests at this public flirtation began to fly back and forth.
The first bottle had been drunk, and they were making good headway with the second, when Nacha, who had been gradually returning to her depression, burst into tears: