As was natural, such a complete knowledge of the science of dancing, united to his consciousness of superiority, endowed El Carnicerín with admirable self-possession. It was he who was permitting himself indolently to be won by Justa, who was frantically fond of him. As they danced she threw herself upon him, her eyes sparkled and her nostrils dilated; it seemed as if she wished to dominate him, swallow him, devour him. She did not take her eyes off him, and if she saw him with another woman her face at once turned colour.
One afternoon El Carnicerín was speaking to a friend. Manuel drew near so as to overhear the conversation.
"Is that the girl?" his friend inquired.
"She's the one."
"Boy, maybe she isn't daffy over you."
And El Carnicerín, with a conceited smile, added:
"I've turned her head, all right."
Manuel could have torn out the fop's heart at that moment.
His disappointment in love made him think of leaving Señor
Custodio's house.
One day he met, near the Segovia bridge, El Bizco and another ragamuffin that was with him.