CHAPTER XXXI
NIGHT AND DAY
TWO evenings later, Quentin was in the Café del Recreo. His streak of bad luck at the Casino continued. María Lucena was talking to Springer: Quentin was smoking, and thoughtfully contemplating the ceiling. Very much bored, he rose to his feet, with the intention of going to bed.
In the street he met the clerk, Diego Palomares, who was going in the same direction.
“What’s doing, Palomares?” he said.
“Nothing. I’m living a dull and stupid life.”
“I too.”
“You? What you have done is to understand life as few people can. While I....”
“Why, what’s the matter with you?”
“You are a revolutionist, aren’t you?” said Palomares. “Well, if you ever take up arms against the rich, call on me. I’ll go with all my heart, even to the extent of making them cough up their livers. There are nothing but rich men and poor men in this world, say what you will of your Progressists and Moderates. Ah! The blackguards!”
“Have they done anything to you at the store?”