“And probably,” she wound up, “if he hasn’t gone back to his ranch, I’ll find him this very moment at the boliche!”
“Go find him,” said Elena, “and tell him that I want him to be in front of the house at ten o’clock.... You needn’t say anything else. But be careful how you tell him ... I don’t care to have anyone overhear....”
Sebastiana had some doubts as to whether she had heard the first words correctly, but at being admonished by her mistress to be discreet, she forgot her astonishment and began affirming vehemently that the señora could rest easy as to her prudence and that she was accustomed to discharging confidential missions with the utmost care.
She went out of the house and made a bee-line for the boliche. If the gaucho was not there, it would mean that he had started for his ranch.
When she reached the door of the Gallego’s establishment, she stopped and peered inside. As it was the supper hour the customers were not numerous. The majority of them had gone to their own homes where they were having their evening meal with their families. An hour later they would have returned to sit around the counter. An old gaucho was strumming the guitar while he gazed up at the paunch of one of the crocodiles hanging from the ceiling. Manos Duras’ three guests were listening attentively. Manos Duras himself was sitting on a horse’s skull, and leaning one shoulder against the wall, was smoking meditatively. As the owner of the boliche was absent, Friterini, behind the counter, was assuming all the airs of proprietorship, while he blissfully perused an ancient and greasy copy of an Italian magazine.
Manos Duras looked up when he heard a discreet cough, and saw a half-breed in the door beckoning to him to come out. When he had followed her to the rear of the Gallego’s shop, Sebastiana delivered her message in a mysterious manner, keeping one finger on her lips; she even went so far as to wink one eye. The gaucho needn’t take her for a fool. She had some idea what her message meant!
When the half-breed had gone, Manos Duras waited a few minutes before returning to the boliche. He wanted to be alone in the dark, for it seemed to him that he could enjoy his satisfaction better there. But in his satisfaction there was a great deal of astonishment. How could he have foreseen, that afternoon, as he wandered in front of the great señora’s house, that she would send him a message asking him to see her in private that very night?
When through Sebastiana, whom he found in the corral, he had made his offer of assistance to her mistress he had simply been, in his own special way, obeying a chivalrous impulse. He wanted to appear to the marquesa’s eyes to be a man different from the rest, and he had offered his protection without any hope that she would accept it.... Yet one hour later she was sending for him. What was she going to ask him to do for her?
Fortified by male vanity he dismissed his doubts. Even though he was a rough cattle merchant, he was after all a man; and a better one at that than these others.... They were all afraid of him ... these gringas from the other side of the world were capricious creatures ... one never knew where their fancy might lead them.... Manos Duras smiled....
“Just what I always said,” he thought, “they are all alike!”