“Why do you work so hard? You don’t have to.”
“There are things to be done; then again, in this house there is no one to lend a hand. All Chucha does is read novels. And as for Sergio, I’m not going to have him travel around like a porter. So that everything falls on my shoulders. I hope I’ll be feeling much better some other day, and then you’ll have the pleasure of seeing what a good girlie I am, and how I follow your instructions to the letter.”
“Excellent, Paquita, excellent. Just keep on being a good little girlie.”
The baroness, to prove how genuine was her girlishness, bestowed a few caresses upon Cromwell and then, in an indifferent tone, asked him for fifty pesetas.
“But....”
“Indeed I know that you’re going to scold me. Don’t you imagine that I’ve spent all the money, or anything like it. The truth is, I have a five-hundred peseta note that I don’t want to break, and as there’s a little account I’ve got to settle....”
“Very well, here you are.” And Don Sergio, with a smile that was meant to be amiable, extracted his pocket book from his pocket and left a blue bill upon the night table; whereupon he was seized with the notion that it was not very gallant to leave only what had been asked for, so he deposited another note.
The baroness placed the candlestick upon the two notes and then, huddling into the bedclothes, she murmured in a drowsy voice:
“Ay, Don Sergio, my headache’s coming back!”