Doña Sol got up. The visit had been a long one, and the torero showed no disposition to leave, content with being near her, and trusting to some lucky chance to bring them together again.
Gallardo was obliged to imitate her. She excused herself under pretext of going out, she was expecting her friend, and they were going together to the Museum of the Prado.
Then she invited him to breakfast another day, an unceremonious breakfast in her rooms. Her friend would come. No doubt he would be delighted to meet a torero; he scarcely spoke any Spanish, but all the same he would be pleased to know Gallardo.
The espada pressed her hand, murmuring some incoherent words, and left the room. Anger dimmed his sight, and his ears were buzzing.
So she dismissed him—coldly, like an importunate friend! Could that woman be the same as the one in Seville!... And she invited him to breakfast with her friend, so that the man could amuse himself by examining him closely like a rare insect!...
Curse her!... He would prove himself a man.... It was over. He would never see her again.
FOOTNOTES:
[102] Madrid is called—la Corte—the Court.
[103] Godfather; patron.