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Renovales drew back, stirred by his own work, bewildered, feeling his temples throbbing, fancying that the pictures and furniture were whirling about him. Poor "Fregolina"! What a delightful clown!
All that for the "Bella Fregolina"! The master was cracked; he was in his second childhood! If only this visit would cure him of his mania, which was almost madness! Afterwards the master had further orders. He must provide on one of the tables in the studio sweets, champagne, anything good he could find.
At the end of the show the master felt that he must do something, not go away without sending the "Bella Fregolina" some evidence of his presence. He bought an elaborate basket of flowers from a flower vendor who was starting home, discouraged at the poor business. She should deliver it immediately to Señorita "Fregolina."
One morning Renovales called Cotoner to talk to him with wild expressions of joy. "She's going to come! She's going to come this very afternoon!" The old painter looked surprised. "Who?" "The 'Bella Fregolina. Pepita. My son-in-law tells me he has persuaded her. She will come this afternoon at three. He is coming with her himself." Then he cast a worried glance at his workshop.
He went out waving him an ironical farewell and a little later Renovales heard López de Sosa's voice, approaching slowly, explaining to his companion the pictures and furniture which attracted her attention. They entered. The "Bella Fregolina" looked astonished; she seemed intimidated by the majestic silence of the studio. What a big, princely house, so different from all those she had seen!
The "Bella Fregolina" saw him throw down his palette and come toward her with a wild expression. But she felt no fear; she knew those distorted faces. This sudden rush was no doubt part of the program; she was warned when she went there after her friendly conversation with the son-in-law. That gentleman, so serious and so imposing, was like all the men she knew, as brutal as the rest.
I beg you. I am sure that this time you won't say that I am mistaken." Cotoner gave in, persuaded by the imploring tone of his friend. They waited for the appearance of the "Bella Fregolina" for a long time, watching dances and listening to songs accompanied by the howls of the audience. The wonder was reserved till the last.
But Renovales, deaf to these ironical remarks, absorbed in the contemplation of "Fregolina," kept on poking him and whispering: "It's she, isn't it? Just exactly; the same body. And besides, the girl has some talent; she's funny." Cotoner nodded ironically: "Yes, very." And when he found that Mariano wanted to stay for the next act and did not move from his seat, he though of leaving him.
But defying his wrath, the master insisted one evening with great obstinacy that he must go with him to see the "Bella Fregolina," a Spanish girl, who was singing at a little theater in the low quarter, and whose name was displayed in letters a meter high in the shop windows of Madrid. He had spent more than two weeks watching her every evening. "I must have you see her, Pepe. Just for a minute.
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