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One day, toward dusk, Manuel saw the pair near the foot of Embajadores Street; Lechuguino minced along with his cloak thrown back across his shoulder; she was huddled in her mantle; he was talking to her and she was laughing. "What's Leandro going to do when he finds out?" Manuel asked himself. "No, I'm not going to tell him.
"Well, she might be quite a success; we must think about her. Come; we've had enough of this." Mrs. Bates turned a careless back upon all her Louis Quinze spendor. "The next thing will be something else." Jane's guide passed swiftly into another large and imposing apartment. "This I call the Sala de los Embajadores; here is where I receive my distinguished guests."
He began to kick it along and send it flying through the air and Manuel joined in the enterprise, so that between the two they transported the relic, venerable with antiquity, from the Ronda de Segovia to that of Toledo, thence to the Ronda de Embajadores, until they abandoned it in the middle of the street, minus top and brim.
At night the three comrades, somewhat the worse for wine, ambled up Embajadores Street, turning into the surrounding road. "Where am I going to sleep?" asked Manuel. "Come over to my house," answered Vidal. When they came in sight of Casa Blanca, El Bizco left them. "Thank the Lord that tramp has gone," muttered Vidal. "Have you had a scrap with him?" "He's a beastly fellow.
It was lunch hour and they wondered where to go; Vidal settled it, saying that as long as they were on Embajadores Street, the Society of the Three, in plenary session, might as well continue on the way down till they got to La Manigua restaurant.
At this moment a guard happened along and the group broke up; noting Pastiri's movement of flight, the hayseed tried to seize him, grabbing at his coat, but the trickster gave a rude tug and escaped in the crowd. Manuel, Vidal and El Bizco made their way across the Plaza del Rastro to Embajadores Street. El Bizco had four pesetas, Manuel six and Vidal fourteen.
"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...."
"Poverty's the only thing you can see here," said Leandro. "Yes, yes indeed," answered the woman. "Now if you wish, we'll go to La Blasa's tavern." They left the Corralon for Embajadores lane and walked along the black fence of a laundry. It was a dark night and a drizzle had begun to fall. They stumbled along the surrounding path. "Look-out," said Leandro. "There's a wire here."
La Corrala was a microcosm; it was said that if all the denizens were placed in line they would reach from Embajadores lane to the Plaza del Progreso; it harboured men who were everything and yet nothing: half scholars, half smiths, half carpenters, half masons, half business men, half thieves.
They must be waiting for us already." "What do you mean, pirates?" "Bizco and the others." "And why do they call 'em that?" "Because they're like the old time pirates." Manuel and Vidal stepped into the patio and leaving the house, walked off down Embajadores lane. "They call us the Pirates," explained Vidal, "from a certain battle of stones we had.
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