“We have met at monté more than once. It was not there, however, that I had my first introduction to you, but—”
“Where?”
“In your house.”
“Una burla, señor! No matter; you are welcome.”
“No jest, I assure you. Our first exchange of speech was under your own roof.”
“Caspita! You confound me.”
“’Tis true, I did not go inside—only just over the doorstep. There we met and parted—both a little unmannerly. For the first I was to blame. The last, I think, you ought to share with me. By your abrupt closing of the door, you gave me no chance of showing politeness; else I should have stayed to thank you for doing, what you say I have just done for you. I intended to seek an opportunity some day. It seems I have found it without seeking.”
“Santissima Virgen! you, then, are the gentleman—”
“Who on a certain night so unceremoniously made entrance into the house of Don Francisco Moreno, in the Callecito de los Pajaros; who went in head-foremost, and no doubt would have been carried out feet foremost, but for the fortune that gave him such a generous host. Ah! captain Moreno,” I continued, in the ardour of my gratitude grasping the young soldier’s hand, “I said we were quits. Far, far from it; you owe me perhaps your life. To you I am indebted for mine; and—and much more.”
“Por Dios, caballero! you continue to mystify me. What more?”