A few days later he was summoned to a barracks, sent to an office, where his name was asked, and then was told to go.
“You’ve been dismissed,” said Vidal.
“Good,” replied Manuel gleefully. “I’m glad I’m not going to be a soldier.”
He continued to visit the Círculo on every day that he was sent there. At the end of a certain time he knew every one of the personnel. There were numerous employees attached to the place; several dandified croupiers with neat, perfumed hands; a number of bullies, as many pimps and still others who kept watch over all visitors and the pimps as well.
These were all specimens who lacked anything like a moral sense,—who, some through poverty and hard life, others through inclination to a disorderly existence, had ruined and beclouded their conscience and broken the mainspring of will.
Without clearly realizing it, Manuel felt repugnance for these surroundings and vaguely heard the protest of his conscience.
CHAPTER II
El Garro—Marcos Calatrava—The Master—Confidences