The engineer came close to Moreno and began speaking in a low tone as though afraid of being heard.
“I want to do something unique, something that this uneducated immigrant would never be able to think of. It just occurred to me last night. At first I thought it was a crazy idea, but after I’d spent a few hours thinking it over I decided it was something really original and worth doing ... if it is only possible to carry it out.... Pirovani offered the marquesa a house.... Well, I shall offer her a park ... a park that I’ll make here in the middle of this Patagonian desert ... what do you think of my idea, Moreno?”
The government employee was listening with profound interest and astonishment, but he didn’t know what to reply. He needed further explanations. So Canterac continued:
“In this park I shall give a fiesta, a garden party in honor of the marquesa. I shall even allow myself the pleasure of inviting this rich rustic, just by way of taking vengeance on him by making him squirm with envy. You, my dear fellow, are to direct everything. Here are full instructions. I wrote them out last night, when I found there was no use trying to sleep.”
Moreno took the papers Canterac was handing over to him, but instead of reading them looked curiously at the engineer, as though entertaining serious doubts of his sanity.
“I understand your astonishment.... Of course it will cost a lot! But what of it? You can spend all you want. I’ve just received several thousand pesos that I expected to remit to Paris. But I’d rather give the marquesa a surprise, and my park will certainly be that.... And I can always earn more money. I have every confidence in the future.”
Canterac spoke with entire good faith; it was easy enough to hear in his tone the soaring optimism of the lover.
The next day was Sunday, and Watson, about midday, went to Pirovani’s former home to see Torre Bianca. Something had come up in connection with the canal works that he wished to discuss with the marqués, especially since Robledo was away, having gone up to Buenos Aires to get extended credit from the banks for his work, and to sell some of the property he owned in the central pampas.
The young man went up the outside stairway with a certain trepidation, keeping an anxious eye on the windows. He knocked cautiously as though he particularly desired not to be heard by the other inhabitants of the house, and smiled with relief when Sebastiana came to the door.
“The master is not at home, he went with don Canterac to Fuerte Sarmiento this morning. And how is don Robledo?”