"Wait a minute; we'll have another drink."
"No. I'm going."
"All right; let's come. Too bad!"
At that moment a corpulent singer with a powerful neck, and the cross-eyed guitarist with the assassin's face, came forward to the public, and while the one strummed the guitar, suddenly muting the strings by placing his hands over them, the other, his face flushed, the veins of his neck standing out tensely, and his eyes bulging from their sockets, poured forth a guttural wail that was doubtless of most difficult execution, for it reddened him to the very forehead.
CHAPTER VIII
Leandro's Irresolution—In Blasa's Tavern—The Man With The Three
Cards—The Duel With Valencia.
Some nights Manuel would hear Leandro tossing about in his bed and heaving sighs as deep as a bull's roar.
"Things are going rotten with him," thought Manuel.
The break between Milagros and Leandro was definitive. Lechuguino, on the other hand, was gaining ground: he had won over the girl's mother, would treat the proof-reader and wait for Milagros where she worked, accompanying her home.
One day, toward dusk, Manuel saw the pair near the foot of Embajadores Street; Lechuguino minced along with his cloak thrown back across his shoulder; she was huddled in her mantle; he was talking to her and she was laughing.