"And whither are you going, comrade?" asked Potaje.
"Don't ask me—throughout the world! I myself do not know. Where anything turns up!"
And putting a foot in his rusty and muddy stirrup with one bound he sat erect in his saddle.
Gallardo left Doña Sol's side, who was watching the bandit's preparations for departure with strange eyes, her lips pale and drawn.
The torero searched in the inside pocket of his coat, and advancing towards the rider offered him shamefacedly some crumpled papers that he held in his hand.
"What is this?" said the bandit. "Money?... Thanks, Seño Juan. Some one has told you that it is necessary to give me something when I come to a farm; but that is for those others, the rich, whose money grows like the roses. You earn yours by risking your life. We are companions. Keep it yourself, Seño Juan."
Señor Juan kept his bank notes, though rather annoyed by the bandit's refusal, and his persistence in treating him as a comrade.
"You shall pledge[94] me a bull some time or other when we see each other in a Plaza. That would be worth more than all the gold in the world."
Doña Sol now came forward till she was quite close to the rider's foot, and taking from her breast an autumn rose, she offered it silently, looking at him with her green and golden eyes.