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Updated: May 26, 2025
An uproar greeted the frights of Besuguito, who continued unabashed his meaningless, repetitious chatter, which was adorned with all manner of notions and involutions. Manuel rested an arm upon the table, and with his cheek upon it, he fell asleep. "Hey you! Why aren't you drinking, Pastiri?" asked Leandro. "Do you mean to offend me? Me?"
"You're right, there," replied Besuguito, "for you ought to see the Portillo de Embajadores and las Penuelas. I tell you. Why, the watchman can't get them to shut their doors at night. He closes them and the neighbours open them again. Because they're almost all denizens of the underworld. And they do give me such frights...."
"Yes, I'd be sorry," continued Besuguito, heedless of the interruption. "But the truth is that it would be a small loss, for, as Angelillo, the district watchman says, nobody lives here except outcasts, pickpockets and prostitutes." "Shut up, you 'fairy! You barrack hack!" shouted the proprietress. "This district is as good as yours."
Did you see him?" "Certainly." "Bah, you must be soused to the gills!" "You only wish you were as sober as I. Bah!" "What? You're so full you can't talk!" "Go on; shut up. You're so drunk you can't stand; I tell you, if you run afoul of this guy" and Besuguito pointed to Leandro "you're in for a bad time." "Hell, no!" "That's my opinion, anyhow."
"A big mouth with a bark worse than his bite and not worth a slap." "He was on his guard right away. In case of accident!" replied Besuguito in his queer voice, imitating the posture of one who is about to attack with a knife. "I tell you," exclaimed El Pastiri, "he's a booby, and he's scared so stiff he can't stand." "Yes, but he answered every thrust, just the same," added the lace-maker. "Yah!
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