One day El Nacional received a message from his matador's wife that she wished to see him. The banderillero's own wife delivered the message.
"I saw her this morning. She came from San Gil. The poor thing's eyes looked as though she were constantly crying. Go and see her.... Ay! those handsome men. What a curse they are!"
Carmen received El Nacional in the matador's study. They would be alone there, and there would be no fear of Señora Angustias coming in with her vehemence. Gallardo was at the club in the Calle de las Sierpes. He was away from the house most days to avoid meeting his wife; he even had his meals out, going with some friends to the inn at Eritana.
El Nacional sat on a divan, with his head bent, twirling his hat in his hands, scarcely daring to look at his master's wife. How she was altered! Her eyes were red and surrounded by black hollows. Her dark cheeks and the end of her nose were also reddened from the constant rubbing of her handkerchief.
"Sebastian, you will tell me the whole truth. You are kind, and you are Juan's best friend. All the little mother said the other day was temper. You know how really good she is. It was only an outburst, over directly. Pay no attention to it."
The banderillero nodded assent, and then hazarded the question:
"What did Señora Carmen wish to know?"
"You must tell me all that happened at La Rincona, all you saw, and all you fancied."
Ah! Good Nacional! With what noble pride he raised his head, pleased at being able to do good, and give comfort to that unhappy woman.
"See?..." He had seen nothing wrong. "I swear it to you by my father. I swear it ... by my ideas."