"That's not so bad. Now to the Plaza."
His two friends took their leave hurriedly in order to find a cab and follow him. Garabato tucked under his arm a large bundle of red cloth, from the ends of which projected the pommels and buttons of several swords.
As Gallardo descended to the vestibule of the hotel, he saw that the street was filled with a noisy, excited crowd, as if some great event had just happened, and he could hear the buzz of a multitude whom he could not see through the door-way.
The landlord and all his family ran up with outstretched hands as if they were speeding him on a long journey.
"Good luck! May all go well with you!"
The servants, sinking all social distinctions, also shook his hand.
"Good luck, Don Juan!"
He turned round, smiling on every side, regardless of the anxious looks of the women of the hotel.
"Thanks, many thanks.... So long!"
He was another man now. Now that he had slung his dazzling cape over his shoulder, a careless smile lit up his face. He was pale with a moist pallor like a sick man, but he laughed with the joy of life, and, going to meet his public, he adopted his new attitude with the instinctive facility of a man who has to put on a fine air before his audience.