He would sleep late, free from the worry of railway time-tables, and the anxiety of thinking about bulls. Nothing to do that day, nor the next, nor the next! None of his journeys need be further than the Calle de las Sierpes or the Plaza de San Fernando. The family, too, seemed quite different, gayer and in better health, now they knew he was safe at home for several months. He would go out with his felt hat well back, swinging his gold-headed cane, and admiring the big diamonds on his fingers.
In the vestibule several men would be standing waiting for him close to the wicket, through the ironwork of which could be seen the white and luminous patio, so beautifully clean. Many of them were sun-burnt men, reeking of perspiration, in dirty blouses and wide sombreros with ragged edges. Some were agricultural labourers, moving or on a journey, who on passing through Seville thought it the most natural thing to come and ask for help from the famous matador, whom they called Don Juan. Some were fellow townsmen who addressed him as "thou," and called him Juaniyo.
Gallardo, with his wonderful memory for faces, gained by constantly mixing with crowds, would recognise them; they were school-fellows, or companions of his vagabond childhood.
"So, affairs are not going on well, eh? Times are hard for every one."
And before this familiarity could tempt them to further intimacies, he would turn to Garabato, who held the wicket open.
"Go and tell the Señora to give each of them a couple of pesetas."
And he went out into the street, pleased with his own generosity and the beauty of life.
At the tavern close by Montañe's children and his customers would come to the door smiling with their eyes full of curiosity.
"Good-day, gentlemen!... I thank you for your civility, but I do not drink."
And freeing himself from the enthusiast who came towards him glass in hand, he walked on, being stopped in the next street by two old women, friends of his mother's. They begged him to stand godfather to the grandchild of one of them; her poor daughter might be confined at any moment; but her son-in-law, a furious Gallardist, who had often come to blows to defend his idol as he came out of the Plaza, had not dared to ask him.