“He doesn’t need it any more. He’ll continue his studies independently.”
“Very well. We’ll rent the house.”
“Yes, for otherwise that low fellow will keep on pestering me. I wish they’d drag him off to jail and hang him! Ah, Don Sergio! When will Carlos VII come? I don’t believe in liberty or constitutional guarantees for rascals.”
“Come, come, woman. This will all straighten itself out in due season. Take heart, and make haste.”
“Thanks, Don Sergio. You were always such a strong man. A rock.... A Tarpeian rock. And you don’t know where to keep your money. Keep me in mind! You know that I’m a most orderly creature and that I neither stint nor squander.”
This was great virtue of the baroness—she knew herself thoroughly.
Once the decision was reached to go to Cogolludo, Niña Chucha and Manuel began to pack the furniture. In the midst of the packing, however, the mulattress remarked that she was very sorry, but that she would remain at a house in Madrid.
“But, my dear girl, what are you going to do?”
The servant, annoyed by these questions, confessed that a young gentleman from South America, a little rastacouère who felt homesick for his cocoa-nut trees, had offered her a place as housekeeper in his apartment.