“The peace of God be with you,” said Pacheco as he entered. “How is Don Gil? Good evening, Señora Rosario; what’s the news?”
“Nothing: we just came here so these girls could have a drink of something.”
“You mean these rosebuds,” interrupted Currito.
“Thanks, Currito,” said one of the girls with a smile.
“Child!” exclaimed Pacheco, “be very careful of Currito, for he’s dangerous.”
“He!” replied the old woman, “he is already among the down-and-outs.”
“I’m like the old guide in the Mosque,” replied Currito. “Every time he saw me, he used to say, ‘Let me have an old suit of clothes—I’m more dead than alive.’”
“Heavens! What little wit you have!” said one of the girls with a gesture of contempt.
“Well, I live by my wits, my girl,” answered Currito, piqued.
“Then, confound them, my man,” she replied with the same gesture of contempt.