I loved her most passionately and devotedly. That was all.
The tragedy of the situation was that I loved one who, alas! could not return my affection as a girl with her mental balance unaffected could do. Her poor unbalanced brain could never allow her to understand me, or to return my love.
I was tired after the long sleepless journey from Spain, and I suppose I must have dozed in my chair.
I awoke suddenly, hearing a tap upon the door, and an elderly chambermaid entered with a telegram.
I tore it open and found it had been dispatched from Castelsarrasin, and was from Rivero, saying: “Absence unavoidable. Hope to be back by midnight.”
“Where is Castelsarrasin?” I inquired of the woman.
“It is about sixteen kilomètres from here, m’sieur,” replied the buxom woman in the strong accent of Toulouse. “It is on the road to Agen and the railway junction for Beaumont-de-Lomagne. Just a small town. They say that the name is a corruption of Castel-sur-Azin. At least my mother used to tell me so.”
What, I wondered, had taken the head of the Madrid detective force out there? He must be following some fresh clue.
So I went forth across the bridge to a big café opposite the theatre, and there idled till nearly midnight, when I returned eagerly to meet my friend.