“Is it thou, Mama?” called Luis from inside. “Come in, if thou art alone.” When he heard Patsy’s voice he ran to let us in. The studio, an attic with a slanting roof, was filled with piles of canvases stacked against the wall.
“Ay! Virgincita! don’t sit down on the palette,” cried the old lady, “nor on that sofa; this chair is quite safe!”
On an easel stood the picture Luis had been working on, a palace interior. There were flowers, jewels, light, warmth, and atmosphere in the pictured room, above all there was luxury; that was the thing most insisted upon.
“This is the papa, and this is the mama.” Don Luis’ mama in her cotton cap hung over the picture as she described it. “How it is painted, this lace! And the jewels, they shine as if they were real; is it not true?”
When we had admired all the pictures Don Luis would show us, they were not many, he was afraid of boring us, Patsy reminded him of his promise to take us to the Rastro.
“Go thou with them now,” said mama. “He has not been out to-day; he needs the air.” She pushed him from the studio.
“If thou wilt promise not to dust”——
“Ojala! what a son I have! I promise, if thou wilt go, nothing shall be touched. I swear thou shalt find the studio as thou dost leave it.”
The Rastro is a vast rag fair, a city within a city, where the poor of Madrid who cannot afford to buy at first hand may buy whatever they need at second hand.
“We will go first to Las Grandes Americas,” said Don Luis, leading the way into an enormous enclosure surrounded by high brick walls. “This is the quarter of the building materials. Here you can buy doors and windows, girders, ceiling beams, stairs, everything necessary to build a house. Across the way are fittings, fireplaces, stoves, gas fixtures, plumbing. Here you can furnish your house, your studio, even your church!”