Manuel arose.
“What? Are you leaving?” asked Roberto.
“Yes. What am I going to do here?”
“If you haven’t the price of lunch, take this peseta. I can’t spare more.”
“And how about you?”
“I eat at one of my pupils’ houses. Listen: if you come here to sleep, let my companion know beforehand. He’ll be here in a moment. He hasn’t got up yet. His name is Alejo Monzón, but they call him Alex.”
“Very good. Yes, sir.”
Manuel breakfasted on bread and cheese and within a short while returned to the studio. A chubby fellow with a thick, black beard, wearing a white smock, with a pipe in his mouth, was modelling a nude Venus in plaster.
“Are you Don Alejo?” Manuel asked him.
“Yes. What do you wish?”