The champagne ended by bewildering Gallardo, and when they rose from the table he offered his arm to his hostess, amazed at his own audacity. Did they not do this in the great world? ... decidedly he was not quite so ignorant as he had appeared at first sight.
Coffee was served in the drawing-room, where in a corner Gallardo spied a guitar, no doubt the one on which Lechuzo gave Doña Sol her lessons. She offered it to him, asking him to play something.
"I do not know how!... I am the most ignorant man in the world, except about killing bulls!"... He much regretted that the Puntillero[84] of his cuadrilla was not there, a lad who drove the women wild with his beautiful playing.
There was a long silence, Gallardo sat on a sofa smoking a splendid Havana, while Doña Sol smoked one of those cigarettes whose perfume seemed to induce a vague drowsiness. The torero felt sleepy after his dinner, and scarcely opened his mouth to answer except by a fixed smile.
Doubtless this silence bored Doña Sol, for she rose and went to the grand piano, which soon rang under her vigorous touch with the rhythm of a Malagueña.
"Olé! That is fine!" said the torero, shaking off his drowsiness! "Capital.... Very good!"
After the Malagueñas she played some Sevillanas, and then some Andalusian popular songs, all melancholy, with an Oriental ring.
Gallardo interrupted the singing with his exclamations just as he would have done before the stage of a café chantant.
"Well done, the golden hands! Now for another!"
"Are you fond of music?" enquired the lady.