And to return his greeting, he grasped one of Potaje's arms with his callous hand, feeling his muscle with a smile of admiration. The two stood gazing at one another with affectionate eyes. The picador laughed sonorously.
"Ho! Ho! I imagined thee a bigger man, Plumitas. But it matters not; take thee altogether, thou art a fine fellow."
The bandit turned to Gallardo:
"Can I breakfast here?"
Gallardo made a gesture of the gran señor.
"Nobody who comes to La Rincona' goes without breakfasting."
They all entered the kitchen of the farmhouse, a vast room with a bell-shaped chimney, the habitual place of these gatherings.
The matador seated himself in an arm-chair; the farmer's daughter busied herself putting on his shoes, for he had rushed down in his slippers.
Nacional, wishing to show signs of existence and tranquillized now by the courteous aspect of the visitor, appeared with a bottle of native wine and glasses.
"I know thee, also," said the bandit with as much politeness as to the picador. "I have seen thee lodge the banderillas. When thou wishest thou dost it well; but thou shouldst get closer."