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"Haven't you heard what happened this afternoon to the Bishop of Madrid-Alcala over at Las Cambroneras?" he would say to some acquaintance. "Why, no." "Sure. He was on a visit bringing alms to Garibaldi and Garibaldi gave the Bishop a cup of chocolate. The Bishop sat down, took a sip, when zip! ... Nobody knows just what happened; he dropped dead." "Why, man! ..."
Vidal seized the coin that the ragdealer threw at him, and, as none was sure of himself, they made off hurriedly. When they reached Dolores' house in Las Cambroneras, they were bathed in perspiration, exhausted. They ordered a flask of wine from the tavern, "A rotten bungle we made of it, hang it all," grumbled Vidal.
Out of las Cambroneras and las Injurias streamed recruits for this ragged army; they came, too, from the Paseo Imperial and from Ocho Hilos, and by this time forming solid ranks, they trooped on to the Toledo Bridge and tramped up the San Isidro highway until they reached a red edifice, before which they came to a halt.
He inquired after his friends in the taverns on the Andalucia cart-road, at La Llorosa, Las Injurias, and a chum of El Bizco, who was named El Chingui, told him that El Bizco was staying at Las Cambroneras, at the home of a well-known thieving strumpet called Dolores the Scandalous. Manuel went off to Las Cambroneras, asked for Dolores and was shown a door in a patio inhabited by gipsies.
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